Tel' Periannath
by Javert Stole My Hat
Summary: The War of the Ring is over, but the Fellowship had failed. Mordor has full power over Middle Earth, and the Shire is believed to be destroyed. Follow the life of Bilbo Baggins through his journey from prisoner of Mordor to a respectable hobbit who changes the lives of all he encounters. (Follows closely the plot of Les Miserables) (Full summary inside).
1. Prologue

**After the war of the ring, Bilbo Baggins finds himself a prisoner of Sauron's empire. 20 years later he is freed on a parole, which he breaks and returns to the Shire to start a new life. He is hunted by his clone named Stoph, who doesn't recognize him, as he is reborn as Bilbo Underhill. He adopts Esiwmas, the child of a poor and dying hobbit named Citrine. Ten years later, the hobbits of the Shire lead a revolt against Sauron and the forces of Mordor. Esiwmas joins Frodo and the others at a barricade to fight for their freedom. In the process, Esiwmas quite accidentally meets the love of his life, Autumn Greenwater. Bilbo meanwhile, must choose between allowing Esiwmas to stay and fight and be with Autumn, and leaving the Shire for their safety. **

*****A Note*****

**I wrote this story for Camp NaNoWriMo in April 2013. It does in fact follow the plot of Les Miserables, and I have incorporated a good number of lyrics into the dialogue and description. I'll start by stating that I neither own **_**Lord of the Rings **_**nor **_**Les Miserables**_**. They belong to the wonderful JRR Tolkien, Victor Hugo, and Cameron Mackintosh. **

*****A Discussion of the Characters and the Time*****

**The most prominent difference from **_**Lord of the Rings**_ **is the age of the characters. Aware that at the start of **_**The Fellowship of the Ring**_**, Bilbo Baggins is 111 years old, I took the liberty of making him younger. Not that my writing requires justification, but in case an explanation is wanted, recall this: Bilbo is in fact Frodo's cousin by blood and not uncle, so if it is any comfort, imagine that he is only seven to ten years Frodo's elder. I am fully aware that according to the novels, hobbits come of age at 33, but I am setting that fact aside for this. I also take the liberty of shortening the time between Bilbo's journey in **_**The Hobbit, **_**and the Fellowship's journey in **_**Lord of the Rings. **_**If you are able to look past the dates and ages that do not quite line up, I hope that this story will prove enjoyable. **

**With that stated, I will provide a quick summary of the ages of prominent characters throughout the eras this story covers:**

**Bilbo Baggins: Aged 20 during his journey in **_**The Hobbit**_**, aged 30 at the beginning of the War of the Ring, and aged 32 at the time of his imprisonment. **

**Frodo Baggins (and Sam, Merry and Pippin within the same range, respectively): Aged 26 at the beginning of his journey. **

**Now. A quick reminder that Tel' Periannath means "The Hobbits" in Elvish, and that I do not own LotR or Les Mis. Enjoy.**

The War of the Ring was over. The winners had paraded home in victory, and the enemy was punished. The fallen were buried, the dead mourned. The ring was where it belonged, back where it came from. Perpetrators were assassinated, save for those who had narrowly escaped capture. There were some whose lives were spared, others who were hunted down for their crimes. Such was the case for Bilbo Baggins.

Sauron had won. He sat on his throne in Mordor like a king, ruling over Middle Earth with a heavy and unmerciful hand. Orcs inhabited every kingdom, village and state. The members of the Fellowship of the Ring had been hunted down and killed. Gandalf had disappeared. In fact, the only ones who remained were the four hobbits. Saruman, who had ruled over the Shire before he was killed, was supposed to have destroyed it. Set a huge fire, killing each and every hobbit. But Saruman died before his task could be completed, and the Shire was saved for the time being.

The four hobbits who had been a part of the Fellowship- being Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took- had managed to escape back to Rivendell where they made a hasty return journey to the Shire. It was their decision to return home that spared their lives for so long in the end. They lived on to see another day. But their story comes later. Before we can tell the story of the hobbits that started a revolution, we have to go back in time to the story of Bilbo Baggins. Not the tale of how he saved Erebor. This story comes right after Sauron's victory.

Bilbo, who was starting to get on the older side, refused to return to Hobbiton. He wanted to remain in Rivendell where it was peaceful. Everyone else knew that the peace wouldn't last for long, but it didn't matter to Bilbo. Frodo had come of age, and now Bilbo had no one to take care of. He had never really seen Frodo as a son in the first place. His cousin, who he always referred to as his nephew due to the huge age difference, was like a permanent house guest. Frodo assisted in the chores and earned his keep, but he was always allowed to do what he wanted, to come and go as he pleased. With Frodo out of the house, there was no need for Bilbo to return to Bag End.

Nine months passed before Sauron's armies arrived in Rivendell. They were a happy few months, but they passed perhaps more quickly than one might wish. Then again, nothing lasts forever. When the orcs came to Rivendell, there was quite a commotion. There were black riders too, and although the guards tried to keep out the attack, their defense was futile. Lord Elrond was surrounded by orcs and shot in the chest with arrows eight times. Those who tried to defend him were captured. The bloodshed was higher in Rivendell than in any other realm of Middle Earth that had been taken by Sauron. The orders to the elves were clear. There would be orcs and ringwraiths stationed in every tower, constantly patrolling. Any resistance would be met with death. With Elrond dead and no one to give orders, the elves were powerless. There was nothing they could do except sit back and watch their lives as they knew them be taken.

The orcs that were to return to Mordor bound the prisoners at the wrists, ankles and eyes. Most went without a struggle. Elladan, a son of Elrond fired an arrow straight at the orc that tried to take him. His brother Elrohir reached out and tried to stop him, hoping to spare Elladan's life. Both were beaten down with clubs and then shot. At the gates the ringwraith in the lead halted, shouting back to his comrades. One orc turned back to the elves that stood huddled, watching with fearful eyes.

"The hobbit. Where is he?" The orc's voice was gruff, and difficult to understand. A young elf stepped forward from behind the ranks of the soldiers. Her name was Paige, and her eyes sparkled with concern for poor Bilbo who had hidden in the Rivendell kitchens when the orcs broke in. It should be known that Paige had cared for Bilbo when he first arrived in Rivendell. In fact, when Bilbo made his first journey to Rivendell with Thorin and Co, she had only been a child. It had been the first time she had met someone who wasn't an elf. How excited she was to hear that Bilbo was returning! Now her jaw was set, and her brow furrowed.

"Why?" she demanded. "What do you want with…" she trailed off as her father, Landaer glared at her. Landaer had served as the butler and assistant to the house of Elrond, and he had been a close friend and consultant of him. However, during the bloodbath he was nowhere to be seen. It is unknown whether he was busy in another part of the tower or if he had simply realized that being murdered for pointing a sword wouldn't save Elrond's life any more than staying silent would. Either way, he lived to see another day, which is perhaps the most important thing, for he managed to save many lives in his time.

"Do you require the presence of Master Baggins?" Landaer asked politely. His voice was cold and it had an edge to it that no elf had ever heard from him before. It was an eerie politeness. The orc sneered.

"Baggins is the name," he growled. "Bring him to me before I lose my patience." Paige screamed as two elf-guards turned to fetch Bilbo. She turned to run after them, but Landaer grabbed her arms.

"Do you want to get us all killed?" he hissed in her ear. His breath sent a chill down Paige's spine, cold as death. She whimpered and sagged in her father's arms. Sighing in relief, Landaer moved her to the side. Paige stayed silent until Bilbo came into view with the two guards flanking him.

"Bilbo, run! You don't have to stay here! Flee now!" Landaer clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. An orc shuffled over to the elf-girl and picked her up by the neck. Paige hung limp in his grip like a rag-doll, her breathing slow. Bilbo watched her with a sad expression.

"I am here of my own accord, Paige. See?" he held out his arms, and the two guards stepped back to show that they were not holding Bilbo against his will. Paige let out a soft sigh of relief and the orc holding her snarled in her ear.

"Let me hear another word from you… and I'll snap your pretty little neck." Paige sagged in defeat. Bilbo raised his chin.

"Release her," he said firmly. It was a gamble speaking out the way he did. He knew that if the orcs got angry at him, they could hurt him. They could simply ignore him. Then there was the alternative. Maybe they would listen to him. But then the worst case scenario…

"You're in no position to be making demands, Halfling," the Orc pointed out with a sharp laugh. Bilbo's shoulders shook with anger. He didn't know what else they could possibly want. He said he would come quietly if they let the elf-girl go. As long as they dropped her he would come without a fight. Whatever they wanted. But the Orcs disagreed.

"Wait," said another, in an almost un-audible voice. "Listen to me." Then he whispered something in his comrade's ear. The lead orc tipped his head listening. Suddenly he jerked away with a loud laugh. Bilbo and the elves looked startled. The head orc shuffled over to Bilbo with a grin.

"Come, Halfling," he said gruffly. Spit splattered Bilbo's waistcoat and face, and he wiped it off with such contempt on his face that he almost spit back. The orc seemed to sense the hobbit's anger, and he laughed, tightening his grip on Paige's neck. Bilbo and Paige cried out at the same time, but the orc laughed. He pushed Bilbo forward. The hobbit stumbled and fell to his knees. "How about this?" the orc sneered. "You come with us quietly and we won't kill the girl. Instead we'll just take both of you prisoner." Bilbo's eyes widened and visions flashed before his eyes. He pictured Paige in a prison camp, which was no doubt where he was being sent off to. He would do anything to protect the girl, even if it meant sacrificing his own life. She had been the only one who trusted him during his whole time at Rivendell. He didn't want her to die. But there was no way she would survive if she was taken. Bilbo squared his shoulders.

"Then I won't come quietly. You won't take her. I won't let you. And I have a feeling you won't kill her either." Bilbo set his jaw. This was a lie, and he was well aware of it. The orcs had no compassion, no sympathy for innocent lives. There was only the hunt and the kill for them. The eagle and its prey. Bilbo had been the prey. But now the tables had turned. All eyes were on Paige and the Orc who was holding her so tightly that her face was purple. Landaer took a step toward Bilbo and the orc. He notched an arrow in his bow.

"You'll have to kill me first." Obviously Landaer was aware of the conditions as well. There was no choice. The orc smiled and gestured to Landaer with his free hand. One orc came up behind the butler and took him down with one strike. Landaer collapsed on the stone floor, moaning in pain. "You'll… never… take… my… daughter… alive…" he gasped for breath. "Not… while… Bilbo… is… here." Then his eyes shut slowly.

Paige screeched. Then she looked down at Bilbo helplessly. All the other elves turned to the hobbit as well, their eyes wide and expectant. Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again.

"Put her down and I'll come quietly," he said. The orcs laughed.

"Is that your final answer?" asked the leader. Bilbo pressed his lips together slowly and nodded. The orc laughed. "So be it!" His grip on Paige's neck tightened. She screamed until her windpipe was crushed. Her face turned red and then an unnatural shade of purple. She hacked a few times, and her eyes drifted to Bilbo. They locked with his, and for a split second they widened. Her mouth opened slightly and Bilbo could almost hear her whisper his name. Maybe it was his imagination. Paige's mouth formed a small 'O' and then her eyes rolled back into her skull. Her face drained of color and she was gone. The orc dropped her to the ground.

The elves were screaming, and Bilbo was screaming. He ran to her side and knelt down. His face was contorted in a fit of terror. "N-no…" the shock was too much and he stood up, stumbling away from the body. He fell again next to Landaer. "I'm… sorry…" he managed to choke out. There were no tears. It was too early for tears. Or maybe it was too late. There was no way to tell, really. It didn't matter either. Bilbo raised his head to face the elves. They had backed away from him, sadness and disappointment on their faces. And something else as well... defeat. Some shook their heads at the hobbit. The two elves who had been his guards before came to either side of him and lifted him to his feet by his elbows. Then two orc soldiers grabbed him and marched him to the wagons where chains were placed on his wrists and ankles. This was the beginning of the end of Bilbo Baggins.

It was a long journey to the camps. It was deemed unnecessary by Sauron or whichever of his minions was in charge of the prisoners to have all of them in Mordor. But it was a long trip nonetheless. The camp nearest to Rivendell was located in what used to be Laketown. The small village had been completely overrun and destroyed. It was a wasteland milled by orcs and patrolled by ringwraiths. Fell Beasts flew overhead, casting dark shadows over the place. Yet it was eerily quiet. No one made a sound, not even the orcs. The Laketown camp was the only one were not one of Sauron's minions could enjoy any merrymaking. Perhaps it was the good of the place preventing them from being happy. It had always been said that Laketown was an incorruptible place; that no evil could reside there.

This is what Bilbo imagined as the carriages pulled into the center of the camp. He cast his weary gaze over the landscape. He remembered Laketown from when the company of dwarves had stayed there with Beorn. The place he saw before him was not Laketown. It didn't deserve the name of Laketown. But there was no avoiding it. This was the cost of losing the war. Bilbo narrowed his eyes trying to see further out, but the dust from the barren land got in his eyes, stinging.

As the carriages rounded the bend, Bilbo caught sight of the one thing he had been looking for, yet dreaded seeing. The Lake itself. It was unrecognizable as a lake if you didn't know it was there. Emptied of water, the Lake formed a giant ditch. At the very bottom was a murky liquid. It may have been water. It may have been something else. Something told Bilbo he didn't want to find out. Something also told him that he might have no choice. Protruding from the ditch were various trenches. Dwarves and elves and men alike crowded inside them. But no hobbits. The hobbits were gone. Bilbo had a sinking feeling that he was the only survivor of the Halfling race.

When the carriages creaked to a stop, the drivers hopped out of the front and opened the back. Bilbo curled up in the back, shielding himself from the orcs. He squeezed his eyes shut as an orc grabbed him by the back of his jacket and lifted him out. He was placed on his feet and marched through the camp. As he passed the trenches he saw the dwarves he had spotted from the carriage. His heart stirred as he thought of old Thorin Oakenshield from long ago, and Fili and Kili, and all the other dwarves he had accompanied so many years ago. The fallen and the lost. These dwarves too would be nothing but faded memories soon. That much was obvious. No one ever got out of these camps.

Before too long a blindfold was placed over poor Bilbo's eyes as he was lead to god knows where. With his vision cut off, his sense of hearing was much stronger. Bilbo could faintly hear the voices of the dwarves raised in a song. It wasn't a happy song. It was a work song, and one filled with sadness and misfortune. A song of lost hope. These dwarves knew they would die there. They knew there was no hope for them. Bilbo knew it too. He only hoped that one day the lives of the dwarves would be avenged, and that all who had fallen not die in vain.

"For Middle earth!"


	2. Stoph

**Chapter One! I own nothing but Stoph!**

* * *

The imprisonment of Bilbo Baggins had caused quite a scene in all of Middle Earth. He was well known for his adventures, and of course for finding and stealing the One Ring. That was, of course, his crime. No one quite knew why Sauron demanded that Bilbo be caught. In truth he had done no wrong. He had not taken the ring from Sauron himself. He had taken it from the wretched Gollum, who had paid for his own crimes with death. No, if there was anyone to be punished, it was Frodo Baggins. But all the members of the Fellowship of the Ring, and indeed all the hobbits were dead, or believed to be dead. Therefore Bilbo was the next best thing, though with little to no fault at all.

There was no use keeping the hobbit locked up in a cell all day and all night, that much was clear. He was strong, and they certainly were able to put him to work. It was also deemed unwise, by some, to leave Bilbo Baggins in a cell because he could do too much thinking. For a burglar, they figured, he could probably figure out a way to escape if he had the opportunity. But when he wasn't locked up it was easier for him to run.

It therefore had been the main concern of the soldiers and guards to find a way to keep Bilbo under 24/7 protection. "The trouble is," one orc had muttered, "Is that he is too tricky. Like a little fish, he is. There is no one here that can keep him here if he tries hard enough. Brute force won't be enough here." They summoned the resident wizard from Mordor to assist them in guarding Bilbo. His name was Morinehtar the Blue and they hoped that he would have enough magic to keep Bilbo under heavy guard. But Sauron wished for the wizard to return to his aid as soon as possible.

Morinehtar developed another plan, one that required terrible dark magic. His plan was to create a clone of Bilbo. The clone would ideally have all the wits, strength, and memories of the hobbit. The only difference is that he would serve as part of the Mordorian forces. The personal watchdog of Bilbo Baggins. But no longer was that his name. He was prisoner 85201.

It took many months to perfect the magic to clone the hobbit. But one day Morinehtar came to the council with the news of the finished spell. Whenever they were ready he could produce a clone of Bilbo Baggins. There was no time to waste. Bilbo had started to become restless. Almost a year in the camp and he was already plotting how to escape.

Morinehtar sat with the hobbit for three long days murmuring spells. Each hour the form hidden beneath the thin blanket materialized more and more. On the eighth hour of the fourth day Morinehtar collapsed from exhaustion. Bilbo too was still out cold, but the form under the blanket began to stir. He emerged finally, and stood. He was, of course, completely naked, and so he pulled the thin blanket around him tightly.

He was a hobbit as well, the same height as Bilbo and the same appearance as well. He blinked as the early morning sunlight steamed through the small skylight in the ceiling of the cell. His mind was clouded with confusion. He did not know who he was or why he was in a jail cell. He looked down at Bilbo, fast asleep, and memories rushed into his head.

"Who am I?" he watched the sleeping hobbit for another minute. "I'm Bilbo Baggins." He frowned. "No… this man is Bilbo Baggins. I am… who am I? I'm no one." He bent down and picked up a medallion hanging on a chain. It had been around the hobbit's neck at one point, he figured. He examined it more closely. It had an imprint of a man holding a staff and wearing a long cloak. _St. Christopher_, it read. He dug deep within his memories, Bilbo's memories. _Patron Saint of Travelers… _"Very fitting," he sneered. _Christopher… meaning "Bearing Christ". _"Christopher… Chris… Christoph… Stoph…" He stopped suddenly, looking up the ceiling. "Who am I? Who am I? I'm Stoph…" he whispered. "MY NAME IS STOPH!" And thus Stoph's reign of terror began.

Bilbo was never aware of Stoph's presence, really. True to Morinehtar's word, the clone kept all of the same traits as Bilbo, and that meant he could generally pass unnoticed. Bilbo never realized he had a shadow, although he occasionally caught the stares of a strange soldier. He was not an orc. He was too short to be a man, and not bulky enough to be a dwarf. Of course he resembled a hobbit. One hobbit should recognize another. But it was the common thought that all the hobbits had died. And Bilbo never knew about the cloning for obvious reasons. In fact, it was never anyone's intention for him to find out. Then again, it was never the original intention for Bilbo to ever be set free.

Stoph hated being the copy of a convict. To him, it felt like he was being mocked either intentionally or unintentionally, it didn't matter. Stoph was a man of honor and righteousness. Not unlike Bilbo, although he never thought of it like that. He refused to be anything like the convict. Stoph was a servant of the Lord. "Bearing Christ", that's what his name meant. And that's what he intended to do. He did everything in his power to distinguish himself from Bilbo Baggins. He hated being a clone. He hated Bilbo for it, but that's because he didn't know who else to place blame on. It is always easy to blame the ones who are already guilty for something else. Stoph cut his hair as short as he could, gained enough weight to be stronger than Bilbo, and requested specially made clothes that were neither the clothes of a convict nor an average hobbit. In short, one look at him and you wouldn't even notice the striking similarity between the two.

It was one winter day, nineteen years after Bilbo's arrest that he was called forth from his work in the trenches. Although the camp was spread over a vast landscape, the flatness enabled the voice of an individual, if loud enough, to be heard for quite a distance. It was Stoph's voice that Bilbo and all the others heard that day. It was, in fact, the first time anyone had actually heard Stoph's voice. He worked alone and resided in solitude. After the work of the criminals was done for the day he would either retreat to his room or sit just out of view of Bilbo's cell.

"Prisoner 85201!" he called confidently. No one even looked up except for Bilbo. Every prisoner had learned the number and who it belonged to. It had been used more frequently than anyone else's, for after the fourth year Bilbo had found an opportunity to flee and had taken it. Stoph tracked him down quickly, however. That was where he recognized the voice from, Bilbo realized. It was Inspector Stoph.

"Come with haste!" the Inspector commanded. "Do not keep me waiting." Bilbo threw his shovel to the ground and walked briskly towards the headquarters, his back hunched with age and weariness. He stopped abruptly at a fence. It was covered in barbed wire. It was far too dangerous to climb. Bilbo backed up a few feet and broke into a run. A foot or so from the fence he leaped up, propelling himself forward and upward over it. He tumbled to the ground on the other side, and looked up at Stoph who had walked over and was now standing directly over him.

"Now Prisoner 85201," he said with a sneer. He looked down at the official documents he held in his fingertips. "You have served your time and now you're on parole." Bilbo's head jerked up to meet the Inspector's gaze. His jaw dropped slightly and his eyes widened. "You know what that means," Stoph guessed.

"Yes…" Bilbo nodded slowly. "It means I'm free." He directed his eyes to the sky and began muttering praise to god. Only Stoph's words jerked him to reality.

"No." Bilbo glanced at the other man in surprise, knitting his brow. On his face was a look of pure confusion. Stoph handed Bilbo a slip of yellow paper. Bilbo looked down at it warily. Work papers. Not just any work papers, though. Stoph grabbed Bilbo by his tattered shirt and glared at him. "This letter is your itinerary. You'll wear this badge of shame until you die." Bilbo looked at him in dismay. "It warns that you, Bilbo Baggins, are a dangerous man."

Rage boiled inside the hobbit. "I stole the stupid ring from that Gollum creature! Surely he bears more guilt than I!"

Stoph stared at him evenly, eyes narrowed. _These are all things I would say, _he realized. Bilbo too was having feelings of déjà vu.

_I wouldn't believe me either… _"I was wandering in the dark!" he exclaimed desperately. "I was _lost!_" Stoph shook his head with a firm stare.

"You'll be lost again," he warned, "Unless you learn the meaning of the law, 85201."

"I know the meaning of the nineteen years I've served my time here, a _slave _of the law." Stoph couldn't understand why the hobbit was putting up such a fight. He would be leaving the camp after nineteen years. The one thing Stoph couldn't recognize was that Bilbo still had his pride. And it frustrated him.

"You served five years for what you did," he exclaimed. "A considerably short time for criminals of your caliber. The rest are because you tried to run off, 85201." Most officers called the prisoners by their numbers because they didn't know their real names, nor did they care. Stoph just refused to recognize any connection between the two. Unfortunately Bilbo's pride proved too strong.

"My name," he hissed, "Is Bilbo Baggins." Stoph smirked, attempting to hide the painful jolt the name gave him.

"And I am Stoph!" he growled. "Do not forget my name! Do not forget me, 85201." Stoph kept a confident air, but inside he was trembling. He couldn't even face Bilbo, and it was only the first encounter. He watched helplessly as the hobbit walked away. He followed the worn path where the carriages had first rolled in. He reached the top of the hill, and looked down at the camp. He could still hear the distant voices of the dwarves singing their work songs.

_Look down, look down_

_Don't look 'em in the eye_

_Look down, look down,_

_You're here until you die_

_The sun is strong_

_It's hot as hell below_

_Look down, look down,_

_ There's twenty years to go_

_I've done no wrong!_

_Sweet Jesus, hear my prayer!_

_Look down look down, _

_Sweet Jesus doesn't care_

_I know she'll wait,_

_I know that she'll be true!_

_Look down, look down,_

_They've all forgotten you_

_ When I get free ya won't see me_

_ Here for dust!_

_Look down, look down_

_Don't look 'em in the eye_

_How long, oh Lord_

_Before you let me die?_

_Look down, look down,_

_You'll always be a slave_

_Look down, look down,_

_You're standing in your grave_

Bilbo stood there, listening to the familiar tune. _I too thought I would never leave this place, yet here I am. This is a miracle indeed. _His gaze met Stoph's whose eyes were locked on the hobbit. There was something inside of him that turned, some feeling or memory woke up inside of him of a wizard, and a hobbit not unlike himself picking up his St. Christopher chain. It had been an odd dream. _Strange, _he thought, _for me to remember it now. Perhaps it's a sign. _Stoph nodded once, slowly, and Bilbo returned the gesture before throwing his cloak over his shoulder and plunging down the other side of the hill at a run.

"Free at last… free at last!" Bilbo basked in his freedom as he ran across fields, hoping fences with ease. "I am no longer a slave… the number 85201 is nothing more than a number. I have waited long for this… yet a premonition of impending doom embraces me inexorably like a closing umbrella, and some disky spirit compels me to make my dying speech lest when dying, there may be no time for it. I will never forget the years I spent among them, the waste. Nor will I forgive them, for what they have done to me. They are the guilty, every one of them. Now I must go alone, for this is the path of a criminal. I have done no wrong but this world is cruel and sick. But now freedom is mine. The earth is still. I can feel the wind and I can breathe again. And now I see the sky is clearing and I can see again. That life is behind. The world is behind and it is waiting for me. I can drink from the pools… how clean the taste. There are many paths to tread. How to start, where to begin? If only I had known I could feel so free and so lost at the same time. I will never know what my life may have been if I had not found the ring. Perhaps nothing would be the same. I know I would not be the same hobbit I am now. I have lived for the past nineteen years on a thread, waiting for this day. Now I am free and what do I do? I run right off to the offices to have my work papers stamped. These damn papers… they demand I return in 30 days or else I will be arrested. What do I do? Where do I turn? To work, to work, my soul is free! I live for god now! I'll find a place where I can work and earn my daily bread and keep! Who am I? Who am I? I'm Bilbo Baggins! The taste of my name upon my tongue is ever so sweet. I go into the world out there so I can find my fate!"

Bilbo rushed through the towns of men, searching for work. Each place we went demanded to see his work papers, but each one turned him away. No work for a dangerous criminal. _They don't know me_, thought Bilbo. _To hell with all of them! Who am I? Who am I? I'm a convict. A dog. The scum of the street. That is the name they give to me. If that is not my path to tread then I condemn them all for dead! God above, show me the way! For if you choose this path for me then rest assured I will be free! To your command I will obey, I'll live to see another day! Who am I? Who am I? Man of god!_


	3. Radaghast the Brown

**I'll try to update tomorrow too. Exams start on Wednesday so I'm a little busy. Also, if you're here because I told on on Instagram, leave me a review saying you were here! You can review no matter what, though. Just no flames, I know my writing is shitty. It's mostly unedited, just proofed. Straight from NaNoWriMo. It gets better where I picked up after camp nano ended.**

**Cheers!**

* * *

Bilbo wandered for many weeks. Occasionally he found work in a small man village, carrying goods and other odd jobs. It didn't pay much- just enough for him to buy food for the day. With his past experience as a burglar he could've easily stolen food or money, but he didn't dare. He knew people were tailing him. For all he knew, the old inspector Stoph was watching his every move.

Those weeks passed on and Bilbo drew further and further away from Laketown and the camp. Every thirty days he stopped and checked in with officials to confirm that he hadn't been indulging in any criminal activities. He began to tire of it but there was no alternative.

Bilbo barely knew how he kept track of the days. He would not have been able to if it was not for a scrap of paper he kept in his pocket. Each day he ticked off a tally mark on it. It was only by this that he managed to know when he was due for a check in. Holding the paper up to the sky, Bilbo counted up the marks. 178 little scratches on the slip. After doing the math quickly in his head, he determined that he had been on the road for almost six months. _Six months… _that was a long, long time. He was weary and tired. His legs would not be able to carry him much further.

As night began to fall on the 179th day, Bilbo stumbled across a hut in the forest. He had spotted smoke rising from above the tress out on the path and rushed into the dark woods to locate the source. He was prepared to tackle anything he met in the dark forest. But as it was, there was no troll camp or Orc pack. It was a friendly little cottage. On the door was the mark of the great wizards of Middle Earth.

A few feet away, Bilbo's legs gave out from under him and he fell to his knees. He propped himself up, only to fall back down again. With a moan, he half crawled, half dragged himself to the doorstep of the Wizard's house. As his head rested down on the doormat, he saw an elegant letter "R" printed on it, and underneath in smaller writing were the words "The Brown". A memory jogged in Bilbo's mind. _R the Brown… a wizard. Radaghast! Radaghast the Brown! _Bilbo reached his fist up to knock on the old wizard's door, but it fell down with a thud as he fell asleep mid- action.

Radaghast was sitting peacefully inside fixing himself supper in his cramped kitchen. He settled himself in his armchair with his hedgehog Sebastian in his lap and his sparrow nestling in his hat. When he had finished supper and cleared his plate, Radaghast went to the door to let Sebastian outside for some air. When he tried to open the door, he felt something blocking it, un-enabling him to open it. With a slight frown, the wizard pushed harder on the door and a loud shout came from outside before it swung open freely. Radaghast faced the man who had jumped to his feet and was now standing in a defensive, cowering position on the doorstep. Radaghast reached out his hand to the Bilbo, but the hobbit shrank back in fear. The wizard frowned, and then suddenly nodded in understanding.

He stepped backwards out of the doorway and extended his arm to offer the hobbit inside. "Come in sir, for you are weary," he said softly. Bilbo hunched his shoulders and stepped cautiously inside. He wasn't sure if it was a trap, or if he had actually met someone who cared for him. The wizard wasn't asking for his work papers. He didn't ask where he was coming from. He simply invited him in without a second thought. Bilbo finally nodded and rushed further inside, huddling by the warm fire. With a laugh, the wizard took him by the shoulders and guided him to a table with food piled on it. The hobbit's eyes grew wide at the sight.

"There is wine here to revive you," said the wizard with a smile. He took a wine glass and poured Bilbo a cup from the dusty bottle on the shelf. "There is bread to make you strong." He then placed a bowl of bread rolls in front of Bilbo. The hobbit didn't think he had ever eaten so much in his life. Nor had food ever looked so good to anyone before. Each and every piece of bread was gone in under five minutes, and he was still eating.

Finally Bilbo's eyelids drooped lower and lower until he had fallen asleep in his chair. Radaghast stepped outside to smoke his pipe and let Sebastian stretch his legs. When he came in, he placed a hand on Bilbo's shoulder. The hobbit jumped, and then looked down in shame as he realized it was only the kindly old wizard. "There's a bed for you here so you may rest till morning. You must rest from your pain and your wrongs." Bilbo nodded and stood up, too tired to wonder how Radaghast knew about his wrongdoings. The wizard led him to the small storage room built onto the side of the house. A small bed was set up in the middle. Bilbo rushed over to the bedstead and threw himself upon it. He huddled under the covers, savoring the warmth they brought to him. Radaghast smiled and placed the candle down on the bedside table.

As Bilbo began to drift off again, he heard singing from the main room. It was definitely Radaghast's voice, and it sounded like a prayer. Bilbo swung his legs out of bed and picked up the candle carefully. He tiptoed to the doorway and peered around it. In front of him he saw Radaghast kneeling by the hearth, his hands pressed together, praying. His song was quiet and mumbled, no doubt to not keep Bilbo awake, but the hobbit was too intrigued for sleep, and he could just barely make out the words the wizard was uttering.

_"Lord of all life,_

_There is one thing that deserves my greatest care,_

_that calls forth my fervent desires,_

_That is, that I may answer the great end for which I am made –_

_to glorify you who gave me life, _

_and to do all the good I can for my fellow men;_

_Truly, life is not worth having_

_if it is not improved for this noble purpose._

_Yet, Lord, how little is this the thought of humanity!_

_Most people seem to live for themselves,_

_without much or any regard for your glory,_

_or for the good of others;_

_They earnestly desire and eagerly pursue_

_the riches, prestige, and pleasures of this life,_

_as if they believed that wealth, or greatness, or self-indulgence, _

_could make their immortal souls happy;_

_But, what false delusive dreams are these!_

_And in a little while, how miserable will those be that sleep in them,_

_for all our happiness consists in loving you,_

_and being holy as you are holy._

_O may I never fall into the seduction and narcissism,_

_the carnality and foolishness of the present world!_

_It is a place of inexpressible sorrow, a vast empty nothingness;_

_Time is a moment, a vapor,_

_and all its enjoyments are empty bubbles,_

_momentary blasts of wind,_

_from which nothing satisfactory can be derived;_

_Give me grace always to keep in covenant with you,_

_and to reject as delusion a great name here or hereafter,_

_together with all sinful pleasures or achievements._

_Help me to know continually_

_that there can be no true happiness,_

_no fulfilling of your purpose for me,_

_apart from a life lived in and for Jesus Christ."_

Bilbo recognized the prayer almost instantly, and mouthed the words at the same time the wizard spoke them. He was not sure why he was surprised, but something about knowing Radaghast was religious as well comforted him. It wasn't just Shire folk who followed God's path. Feeling very comfortable now, Bilbo retreated to bed. He put out the candle, and just as he was about to close his eyes for the night, he prayed once more to thank god for granting him this warm place to spend the night.

_"God of all grace,_

_You have given me a Savior,_

_produce in me a faith to live by him,_

_to make him all my desire,_

_all my hope,_

_all my glory._

_May I enter him as my refuge,_

_build on him as my foundation,_

_walk in him as my way,_

_follow him as my guide,_

_conform to him as my example,_

_receive his instructions as my prophet,_

_rely on his intercession as my high priest,_

_obey him as my king._

_May your dear Son preserve me from this present evil world,_

_so that its approval never tempt,_

_nor its disapproval terrify,_

_nor its vices defile,_

_nor its errors delude me._

_May I feel that I am a stranger and a pilgrim on earth,_

_declaring plainly that I seek a country,_

_my title to it becoming daily more clear,_

_my desire for it more perfect,_

_my expectations of it more abundant;_

_and whatsoever I do may it be done_

_in the Saviour's name."_

Bilbo closed his eyes and pulled the covers over himself. He listened to the breeze outside and the sound of the crickets chirping in the darkness. Rolling over, he looked out the window at the stars. They shone with a dull light. They actually looked quite eerie. Bilbo shivered as he stared at them. His heart beat quickly at the thought of what he was about to do.

Finally Radaghast's footsteps could be heard in the hall as he left the fireplace and they faded as he went into his bedroom. Bilbo's eyes squeezed shut as he began to doubt his decision. He knew he couldn't stay the night at the wizard's house. His pride was too much and his ability to give into weakness was nonexistent. That's the only reason he survived as long as he did in the camp as a slave.

When the snores of Radaghast could be heard from the wizard's bedroom, Bilbo crept out of his own room stealthily. Into the kitchen he went, glancing around as he tried to adjust to the dim lighting. He didn't dare light a candle. From under his shirt Bilbo pulled a ratty gray sack, and he began opening up every cabinet door. From all the shelves he swiped the gold that was piled on them into his bag. He stuffed it under his shirt and in his jacket and beneath his hat. Finally every little bit of the wizard's gold was in Bilbo's expert burglar possession. Wizards had quite a lot of gold, one of the good things about Sauron's reign (for them). Their skills were needed greatly by the Mordorians, and they were paid heavily for their service and loyalty. Not that any wizards were truly loyal. Only Morinehtar followed Sauron as blindly as Saruman had. Radaghast was a neutral force, and Gandalf openly defied the Dark Lord.

Once Bilbo had knotted the bag tightly and pulled his cap down over his eyes almost entirely, he jumped out the window and took off running through the gardens. There were tall gravestones lining the path, but Bilbo didn't stop to wonder whose they were. Instead he kept up his pace, making out to the main path in the woods.

He hadn't gone ten paces when two orcs grabbed him from behind, hit him over the head with a large stick, and dragged him behind them back to Radaghast's house. They beat on the door heavily with their fists. When the tired man sleepily opened the door, they seemed surprised to see a wizard, but they smiled smugly as if that confirmed their suspicion. The first orc tossed Bilbo to the ground and he fell with a groan.

"Sir Radaghast," said the first orc, bowing deeply. The second one threw the sack of gold on the floor as well. "We have your gold. We caught this man red-handed." Bilbo looked up at the kind wizard with guilt and defiance in his eyes. Radaghast med the hobbit's gaze and solely smiled. The other orc frowned as he noticed the wizard's expression.

"What is it? Do you have the nerve to say you GAVE him this?" the orc laughed at the absurdity, and his friend joined him. Radaghast stared evenly at them until they shut up and looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"That is right," Radaghast confirmed. Bilbo stared at him in surprise. Luckily then orcs didn't recognize the shock in the hobbit's own face because they too were caught off guard.

"Right?" the first orc whispered to the other. His friend shrugged, not understanding.

"But my friend, you left so early… surely something slipped your mind!" Radaghast walked over to the table. "You forget I gave these also." The wizard held up two pure gold candles and presented them to Bilbo, who had climbed to his feet gingerly. Bilbo gaped at him and the wizard smiled softly. "Would you leave the best behind?" The hobbit took the candles slowly, looking at them.

_ Why…? _He wondered, frowning.

"My good sirs, release him. This hobbit speaks the truth." The orcs looked at each other and shrugged, and both of them stepped backwards away from Bilbo. Radaghast stepped forward and made the sign of the cross in front of each of them. "I commend you for your duty, now god's blessing go with you." The orcs considered the situation a minute longer before turning and walking out, slamming the door behind them.

When they were gone, Bilbo sank to his knees once more, sobbing. He wanted to ask the wizard why he saved his hide. He wanted to scream the question to the heavens. But of course he already knew. It was the right thing to do by god.

Radaghast pulled Bilbo to his feet with a small smile. "But remember this, my brother. You must see a higher plan in this little scheme of yours, beyond getting money and riches for yourself. You must use this precious gold to become an honest man." Bilbo looked at the wizard in wonder.

"Have you come from god yourself?" he asked in amazement and horror at the same time. The wizard nodded, smiling kindly.

"By the witness of the martyrs… by the Passion and the Blood… God has raised you out of darkness. I have saved your soul for God."

"Amen," Bilbo whispered. The wizard smiled and disappeared in a poof. The poor distressed hobbit got to his feet and managed to drag himself outside to where the gravestones were. Looking closer, he saw that they we burial stones for the dead animals Radaghast had kept as pets. In the center of them all was a shrine. Bilbo knelt before it, raising his face to the sky.

"What have I done sweet Jesus?" he asked. "What have I done? Become a thief in the night? Become a dog on the run? Have I fallen so far and is the hour so late? That nothing remains but the cry of my hate? The cries in the dark that nobody hears? Here where I stand at the turning of the years!" Bilbo clenched his fists and stood up, looking around defiantly.

"If there's another way to go, I missed it twenty long years ago." And indeed it had been a very long twenty years. My life was a war that could never be won. They gave me a number, and they murdered Bilbo. When the chained me and left me for dead just for finding a ring in the dark." As he thought about the things he was arrested for, the more and more stupid it seemed to him.

Then suddenly he remembered old Radaghast. The wizard had given him nothing but love and support, and how had Bilbo repaid him? By stealing his gold. Yet the wizard forgave him. "Yet why did I allow that man, to touch my soul and teach me love? He treated me like any other… he gave me his trust and he called me 'brother'." It did not seem possible, the kindness of the wizard.

"My life he claims for God above. Can such things be? For I had come to hate the world, this world that always hated me." Bilbo picked up a stick on the ground and raised it in the way of a revolutionary.

"Take an eye for an eye! Turn your heart into stone! This is all I have lived for! This is all I have known!" Bilbo coughed, suddenly choking up. He sank back to his knees again, tears streaming down his face.

"One word from him and I'd be back, in the camps. Their eyes on me always. Getting beaten and bruised. Instead he offers me my freedom… I feel my shame inside me like a knife. H-he told me that I had a soul. How does he know? What spirit comes to move my life? Is there another way to go?" Bilbo stood once more, and walked slowly down the path toward the main road, almost dream like. In one hand he held his sack of gold. With the other hand he pulled his yellow parole papers from inside his jacket. He read them over slowly. _30 days…_

"I am reaching but I fall, and the night is closing in. As I stare into the void, to the whirlpool of my sin." Bilbo picked up pace, running now toward the edge of the trees where the forest dropped off to reveal the place where the Shire used to be. It used to be able to be seen from the edge of a giant cliff but everyone claimed that it had been destroyed.

Bilbo got a sudden idea. Except it wasn't like a sudden whim. He had been considering it for a few days but he didn't have the courage to attempt it until now. "I'll escape now from the world, from the world of Bilbo Baggins. Bilbo Baggins is nothing now!" He reached the edge of the cliff and looked over it. "Another story must begin!" He ripped his parole papers to shreds and watched as the pieces floated down into the Shire that was very much undestroyed.


	4. The Shire

_The year was Twenty- One, Fourth Age. Bilbo, well stocked with the gold from Radaghast's house, began to make his way west towards the Shire. He still believed his home to be destroyed as everyone claimed, but the more he traveled on the road the more he began to hear stories of hobbits reappearing in the west. He oft asked himself if there were a chance the rumors that the Shire had survived the attacks were true. He doubted it, because the people he met were generally crooks who weren't to be trusted. But still he journeyed towards home. He knew that he could start a life anywhere he pleased with the wealth of a wizard in his pocket, so had nothing to lose. Only the prospect of returning home kept him going. He had no idea what he would find but it didn't matter. He was free to go home._

The streets of Hobbiton were crowded with people. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, in this little town. They bustled around, going from place to place in search of work.

Since the invasion of the Mordorian armies in the Shire, all of the towns had been built up. More hobbit holes were built, forcing the scattered houses to come closer together to form very defined streets. It was easy to see what a street was and what an alleyway was. There was really no such thing as open space in between the homes anymore. The hobbits despised it, but what they hated more was the armies finding their homes. For fifteen years they had lived in secret. The rest of Middle Earth believed them to be dead and their home destroyed, wiped out by some wizard. How wrong they all were! Hobbits don't back down easily. They lived in peace for those fifteen years. Then some men who had joined Sauron's police force found them. They may as well have been done for, but instead the men rebuilt the town into a city.

The only way to describe the people of Hobbiton is poor. They crowded in the alleys. The pushed against the gates. They held out their hands, kneeling on the ground in tattered clothing, begging for food.

The leaders of the city hurried past, and the dirt and dust from their heels was kicked into the faces of the poor and helpless. They never heard their cries. The men rode their horses through the streets, patrolling.

In the center of the town lay a large building. It was a textile factory, run by the mayor himself, Ponto Underhill. It employed hundreds of hobbits who worked each and every day. It was a successful business, made possible by the generosity of Mr. Underhill. He was a hobbit himself, much better than the man who had run the city before Mr. Underhill. Mr. Underhill had actually only arrived in Hobbiton ten years before. No one knew where he had come from. He didn't talk about his past. He was the sort of man to keep looking forward. He never dwelled in the past, or so it seemed to his people. All the people of the Shire looked to Mr. Underhill as their leader. He was fair and kind and he was well respected for that.

In Mr. Underhill's factory the women lined up at their tables, working without pause. They, like everyone else went through the day with the prospect of going home and dying in the night so they would never have to live and work in the dreadful place that was the Shire ever again. The home that they all had once loved was gone, and replaced with an oasis of poor hobbits without work, homes, or care.

At the end of the day, the workers packed up and began to head home. At the end of a table, a young woman who went by the name of Citrine Danderfluff grasped a letter in her hand. She was the daughter of a farmer who had been orphaned from a young age. Her parents had died in a fire when she was just a child and she was thrown into the world all alone. She wasn't raised by parents long enough to be influenced by adult figures. For many children that would mean them being undisciplined, but that was not so the case with Citrine. She took her position as mother and father to herself and became an honorable adult. She lived apart for many years, finding work where she could and staying out of trouble.

When she finally did find love, it was with a man named Posco Burrows eight summers before. The summer was wonderful. But in the autumn he disappeared. The way Citrine told the story, he abandoned her and her child for a schoolgirl just as the weather got cold. They had a son whom they named Esiwmas. He was only a few months old when Posco left. Those months Citrine and Posco were together, he paid for both of them, so that Citrine didn't have to work. They were happy months. When Posco left she was out of work and out of money. She took jobs where she could find them. She couldn't afford to keep the child, so she sent him off to go live with Lobelia and Otho Sackville-Baggins, who had started running an inn for the officers to stay in when they arrived in Hobbiton.

Citrine finally settled herself in the job at the textile factory. She was immediately hated by all of the other workers because of her purity. She never told anyone about her son, who was eight years old at this time. She kept him a secret, acted as a virgin. For the most part they believed her, too. There were those that doubted it- she was very pretty and the thought that a young hobbit like her had never laid with a man before was absurd to many.

The one person who didn't believe it at all was Mr. Underhill's foreman. He often oversaw the work when the mayor was too busy to hang around during the day. He had a certain obsession with Citrine. He desired her, yet he hated her at the same time. He was as perverted as a man could get.

As Citrine was about to walk outside, to return home after a long day. She gripped a letter tightly behind her back, a letter from the Sackville-Bagginses. A woman, almost ten years older than she, snatched it from Citrine's fingertips with a sneer and a laugh. Citrine spun around in shock, gaping at the woman.

"What have we here, you _innocent _girl?" she asked with a smirk. Citrine backed up, shaking her head, her eyes wide and pleading. "Oh _come on, _Citrine! Let's have all the news!" Citrine lunged forward, trying to grab the letter from the woman. Her eyes widened with a smile as she jerked it away from Citrine.

She smirked at the helpless Citrine as she read the letter out loud. "'Dearest Citrine: By my life, this is no lie. Your child is ill and fading fast. She needs a doctor but we are low on money. Please send us more as soon as you can. Love, Lobelia...'" the woman trailed off and smiled at the realization. Citrine saw the look and snatched the letter back without hesitation. "

"Give that to me! It is none of your business!" She clutched the letter close to her chest, eyes wide. "Is there anyone here who can swear before God? He has nothing to fear, he has nothing to hide!" The woman leaped at Citrine, trying once again to get the letter. Citrine tucked it quickly in her dress and the woman clawed at the fabric. The others joined in, ganging up on Citrine. She screamed, and the others joined in her call.

Their squabbling finally brought the situation to the attention of the mayor and the foreman who stepped into the room. The foreman came in first, and when he saw the trouble he leaned against the wall with a smirk to watch. Behind him stepped Mr. Underhill, the mayor. There was something about the way he carried himself that could make any man feel like they had met him before, even if they had never met the Mayor of the Shire. It could have been a natural thing, something in his features. And indeed it was, although no one could figure out what it was. But when Mr. Underhill spoke for the first time, anyone who had met him in his old life would recognize him as Bilbo Baggins.

He rushed into the room, pulling his top hat off as he did so. He shoved it at the foreman who caught it with a grunt. "What is this fighting all about? Someone tear these two apart!" he stepped into the middle of the squabble. "This is a factory, not a battle ground!" They all backed away, lining up in two rows. "Come on, ladies. Settle down! I am the mayor of this town! I run a business of repute!" he gave the women hard stares, but it wasn't a mean stare. It was forgiving reprimand. He turned to citrine but out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of blue in the window above. His attention flew to the window in an instant.

The figure stood there for only a second, but Mr. Underhill (or should we call him Bilbo now?) recognized the face immediately. It was the face of a man who had made his life hell before, and Bilbo knew that no good could come out of this either. Stoph had found him. When Bilbo blinked, he was gone.

He diverted his eyes to the ground and turned to the foreman. "Deal with this, Foreman," he instructed, and he disappeared upstairs. There was silence downstairs for a moment. Then the Foreman turned to the women.

"Someone tell me now what the trouble is," he instructed.

"It was her who began it!" shouted one woman, pointing to Citrine. She hissed angrily as another spoke up.

"She's got a kid that she's hiding somewhere! She sends her money to the people taking care of him, but you can guess how she makes up the rest. You can guess that she picks up the rest slipping around!" The foreman frowned. "And the boss wouldn't like it!" The foreman nodded.

"Citrine… come. Is this true?" his cold, lustful gaze made her blush angrily.

"Yes it is true there is a child… and the child is my son. His father abandoned us leaving the house. Now he stays with an innkeeper man and his wife and I pay for his keep. What's the matter with that?" The foreman smirked.

"Come here," he said, and grabbed her arm, pulling her aside. Citrine trembled, and stumbled toward the man. "I might've known," he said with a snarl in her ear. "I might've known the _dog _could _bite_," he said with a satisfied smirk on his face. "I might've known the _cat _had _claws_." Citrine tried to punch him with her free hand, but he caught both her wrists and held them up. "I might've _guessed_ your little _secret_!" Citrine growled, and spat in his face angrily. _"_Ah yes, the _virtuous _Citrine… who keeps herself so _pure _and _clean_. You'd be the cause; I have _no _doubt, of any trouble hereabout." Citrine struggled in the foreman's grasp but he didn't let go.

"You play a _virgin _in the_ light_, but need no _urging _in the _night!" _Citrine screamed and hit him, breaking away and running away from him quickly.

Immediately the screeches and squabbling of the workers broke out again. "You must send her away, Foreman! She'll be nothing but trouble again and again! You must sack the girl today!" The Foreman nodded and grabbed Citrine's arms again, dragging her toward the door.

"Come, girl. On your way." She screamed and bolted towards the stairs that led to Bilbo's office.

Over and over she cried out for the mayor. "Mr. Underhill! Mr. Underhill, please! Please, sir! I have a child!" Bilbo turned as he heard his name being faintly called from the factory but he shook his head. He thought he had imagined the weak and terrified cries that called to him.

The foreman opened the door to the factory and pushed Citrine out. She stumbled and fell to her knees on the pavement, her dress tearing. The foreman gave her a very satisfied look indeed and tossed her a few silver coins. "Please…" she whispered feebly, but the foreman paid her no mind. He slammed the door in her face and left her out in the street. Citrine whimpered, looking up at Mr. Underhill's office window. "P-please…" Her voice, weak from screaming, gave out to coughing. A mother and her child were walking down the street, and the mother saw the poor hobbit on the sidewalk. She put her arm around her daughter and they hurried off down the street in a rush, the mother looking back with a disapproving look.

Citrine stumbled to her feet. _I must get money for Esiwmas_. _But how? _Her back straightened as she realized what she had to do. Lifting her chin high, the only sign of pride she had left, she walked down the street to the very place the workers said she came from. The docks.


	5. Meeting

**Here's chapter four! Hope you enjoy! I own nothing... except Stoph... but Vic Hugo owns Javert, so...**

* * *

Stoph had just arrived in Hobbiton that morning. He had traveled for a long time to find the Shire, where he intended to work, and start over. When Bilbo was set free, he was relieved of his post, of his duty. There was no need for him any longer. He could've joined their forces, but they had no need for a hobbit in their ranks, no matter how strong or agile he was. Stoph wandered far from the Laketown camp, trying to start over. He finally managed to join the police force near Rivendell where he worked for five years.

He saw all of the other policemen, men and elves, on horseback, and he was determined to ride as well. They scoffed at him, saying that a hobbit couldn't ride a horse. But he was given a pony, and the elves watched in amusement as he mounted the pony and picked up the reins. Their amusement turned to bemusement when he almost instantly picked up a trot and then a canter, riding with ease among the elven ranks. He was a natural. And that was how it came to be that Stoph spent his Wednesdays, Fridays, and most weekends as well at the stable riding.

He went when he felt out of place, or when he just needed someone to talk to. The horses were always there. He could always count on them to listen. One day he pulled out a piece of paper from his jacket. It was a poem he had written. He had taken up poetry as well. Stoph didn't talk to people because people were cruel. That's why he spoke to the horses and wrote poetry to let out his feelings. This particular poem was about still feeling trapped in Bilbo's shadow after so many years.

Stoph wrote poetry like this often, usually sad, depressed poetry. But his bond with the horses grew and after only a year he had moved himself up to the head of the mounted guard. It was not that he wanted power. He worked hard because there was literally nothing else. He had no family, no house to return to. Sure, he had a room that he actually lived in, but most nights he was too tired to go there, and he slept in the stable. He had no real home.

It was when he was promoted to the title of "Inspector" that he began to feel like maybe he belonged somewhere. He had command over police all over Rivendell, and he could do what he did best: hunt down criminals, convicts, and street scum. He could find the people like Bilbo who had made his short life hell.

He moved from city to city, spreading fear into the hearts of people everywhere he went. It was satisfying. The people were terrified of the inspector, but he got the justice he so craved. All he knew was the law, and he was determined to live his life defending it.

"It is by God's honor that I fight for my people and my law," he was often heard saying. His other famous line was, "I'll live my life a follower of the law and a child of God, or not at all." Those were perhaps the truest words he had ever spoken in his life.

It was quite by chance that he had now ended up in the office of Mr. Underhill, also known as Bilbo Baggins, as his inferior. He was pacing back and forth inside the small room when Bilbo walked up the stairs to his office.

"Sir," he said respectfully, bowing low with his hat in his hand. Bilbo eyed him warily.

"Welcome Inspector," he said finally, eyes not leaving Stoph.

"Please know me," he said with another bow, "As Stoph." Bilbo's expression did not change, but his heart skipped a tiny beat.

_So I was right… _

"I am here at your command, Sir." Bilbo nodded briefly. "With honor due to each… and justice in our hands. No man is beyond our reach." He looked Bilbo in the eye. "Let all be well." This time the mayor couldn't help but flinch. He knew what was coming. Any minute now Stoph would reveal what he knew and it would be all over.

Bilbo gripped the side of the table to support himself, and he turned, absent mindedly picking up a pendant that was lying on his desk.

"Welcome sir. It is good that we have you hear to guard our laws. I know our cause to be here is the same. I'm sure of it." His voice shook, and he pointedly kept his back to Stoph so he wouldn't see how uncomfortable the mayor was.

"You have done your city proud. You're praised by those on high. You have had great success in your career. The Shire couldn't supply better. Your people thrive, sir." Bilbo took a deep breath and turned, knowing he had to reply in as respectful as manner as seemed fit.

"The dignity of toil to stay alive," he said. He pressed the chain into Stoph's palm with a small nod and a smile. He wasn't quite sure why he did it, but it seemed an appropriate gesture.

Stoph looked down at the chain. Upon further inspection, he realized it was the same pendant he had seen on Bilbo's person when he awoke that first day. It must have simply been a popular medallion. Yet something stirred within him. Stoph narrowed his eyes and peered at Bilbo. _Here it comes, _the mayor thought. Sweat glistened on his brow and he tried to act natural.

"It seems to me we may have met," the Inspector said, tipping his head curiously. "Although I don't know how that's possible." Bilbo frowned slightly. This wasn't like Stoph. He didn't understand why the Inspector wasn't simply calling him out on his hidden identity. Was it possible he didn't recognize Bilbo after all? He had certainly changed a lot. Both of them had.

"Your face is not a face I would forget," Bilbo replied stiffly. "I do not believe our paths have ever crossed before. But," he continued, determined to keep up the act, "I'm sure that since we have been acquainted, we can protect this city together." Stoph nodded, looking satisfied. He opened his mouth to reply to Bilbo's statement when the sound of yelling reached their ears in the tiny office.

Both hobbits stopped dead, staring at each other. Bilbo moved first. "Anon," he said to Stoph, before racing out of the office and down the stairs, his tailcoat flapping behind him. Stoph hurried after him. He was astounded by how quickly the mayor ran. Stoph was fitter than Bilbo, but he still managed to outpace the Inspector.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Bilbo jumped off the last step and hit the ground running. Stoph followed close behind. It was obvious that the mayor knew these streets better than the Inspector did. He led them through the maze, sprinting ahead and weaving through the maze, sprinting ahead and weaving through the alleys.

Up ahead they spotted the source of the screams. A young hobbit child had been climbing a stone wall with some of his friends. The wall had not been very stable, and the boys had known that. But they were too adventurous and reckless. The stone wall collapsed under them, and one of the boys was trapped under some of the falling stones. Bilbo's eyes widened and he dug his heels into the ground, racing forward. As he neared the boys another wall loomed ahead. Stoph's eyes widened at the sight of it, but Bilbo never faltered.

He rushed at the wall. Stoph stared at him in horror. _He's going to crash into it! _He realized with a start. "Mr. Underhill! Watch out!" he stopped midsentence, the words hanging in the air. Bilbo had vaulted over the wall with ease and was now kneeling next to the boy, lifting the stones off of him.

Stoph sprinted after him and when he reached the wall, he clambered over it with a struggle, and without grace. He leaned against the wall, breathing heavily in exhaustion. He watched Bilbo comfort the little boy and his friends, impressed. Suddenly he frowned. His mind had been jogged again.

_Can this be true? _He thought to himself. _Can I believe what I see? _he walked over to Bilbo and stood next to the mayor respectfully. Bilbo was still crouched on the ground.

"Pardon my interruption sir," Stoph said to Bilbo. The mayor tilted his head up to look at the Inspector curiously.

"Yes?" he asked. "What is it?"

"It… it is not anything really. Nothing important. It is only… a hobbit if your age to be as strong and agile as you are… well, it is almost unheard of." Bilbo shrugged, although a chill went up his spine.

"I've worked hard all my life," he said. It was the truth after all.

"Of course." Stoph took a deep breath. "Sir, you make me think of a man…" he trailed off, suddenly uncertain of what he was about to do. Bilbo pretended to ignore the Inspector's falter. "He… he was a man who broke his parole. And he disappeared."

Bilbo froze. He world was still. Time itself seemed to freeze. This was the end. He was caught at last. "Say what you must," he said with a sigh and a frown. "Don't…. don't leave it there." Stoph was silent for a second. Then he removed his hat and bowed his head awkwardly.

"Forgive me sir. I… I would not dare continue." Bilbo frowned at him as he turned around quickly and hurried off, pulling his jacket tightly around him to protect himself from the wind.


	6. Fate

**Sorry I've been taking so long to update! Finals just finished so I should be able to get a chapter a day posted! I own noone but Stoph and Citrine (actually citrine_of_bywater on IG own her BUT ANYWAY)**

* * *

At night, the docks were better lit than they were in the middle of the day. The lights from incoming ships lit the narrow streets, casting an eerie glow of fog and mist. Hobbits lurked in the shadows, women mostly, with some men. Then the "customers" came around when the shadows faded into blackness. A girl and a man would disappear into a side street, running. A

As ships arrived at the docks, young men would climb off, stretching their sea-weakened legs. Some would turn toward home, but many would turn to the girls waiting in the darkness.

Not everyone who worked at the docks was a prostitute, per se. Many were merchants or traders. The one thing they had in common was that their businesses were illegal. Not that it ever stopped them. It was only bad if you got caught. That was their way of life.

It was at these docks that citrine arrived that same very night. She had only her worn blue dress and a shawl drawn tightly around her. She stumbled into the streets, her eyes wide and terrified. She pulled a pocket watch from her dress, an old and heavy one. It was late, very late. Far later than any lady should be out on the streets. But Citrine was not a lady, not anymore. She was diving much deeper into the world of the whores with each step.

A cold and clammy hand gripped Citrine's arm tightly. Fingernails clawed her arm and Citrine jerked away. However, the damage had been done. The hand belonged to an old woman dressed in rags. Her eyes were bright and her face was wrinkled.

"Let me see that," she said in a high pitched cackly voice. Citrine spun around, clutching the pocket watch to her chest.

"It belongs to my son!" she exclaimed, shaking her head, eyes wide. "Keep your thieving hands off of it!" The woman looked insulted, but she smiled a toothless grin.

"It is lovely," she said slowly. "I will buy it from you, Girlie!" At first Citrine looked horrified.

"Never!" she said. The woman smirked and started to walk away. Citrine looked desperate for a minute and then darted after her, holding out the pocket watch. "I will sell it to you! Name a price!" The woman turned, flashing her toothless grin again. Citrine cringed away again. The woman was not quite toothless after all. Her two canines were still intact, making her look as if she had fangs. _A witch, _Citrine thought.

"Four gold pieces," she offered. Citrine immediately shook her head, taking the pocket watch back in her hands.

"Four?" she exclaimed, shocked. "It is worth ten at least!" The woman laughed at Citrine's foolishness, shaking her head of matted hair.

"I will give you five gold pieces," she offered again. Citrine opened her mouth to argue and the woman held up her hand. "Take it or leave it, Dearie. It makes no difference to me." She started walking away again. "We all have to survive here." Citrine bit her lip and nodded.

"Fine. Five gold pieces. And not a bit less." The woman's lips twisted into a cruel, wide smile. She took the money from her dress and held it out to Citrine. The hobbit snatched up the money and stuffed it inside her dress, throwing the pocket watch at the old woman. She caught it in one hand and walked away chuckling.

"Look what I have myself!" she crowed. "A lovely pocket watch, worth at least ten gold pieces! And I only bought it for five!" Citrine's eyes widened and she started after her.

"You old lying, thieving bat…" she was interrupted when she tripped over some junk on the ground and fell flat on her face. She swore she saw the woman laughing before she disappeared into the shadows. _Must have been a witch after all, _she thought.

Citrine lay face down in the dirt, coughing. She felt a cold hand on her bare shoulder where the dress had torn.

"Do not touch me!" she shrieked. "Leave me alone!" the owner of the hand was another woman, not as old as the one before. Her eyes shone as she stared at Citrine's golden hair.

"What pretty hair you have! Beautiful!" she exclaimed excitedly. "What pretty locks you have there, dear!" Citrine glowered at her, her eyes angry.

"Keep away! What do you want?" The woman looked surprised that she was even asking.

"Your hair, of course," she replied indignantly. "It's very, very fine. Very fine indeed. I could get a lot of money for it. Come now! Let us make a price. I will give you all of ten gold pieces!"

Citrine had been about to refuse until she heard the price. It struck a chord within her. _It pays the money I need to send for Esiwmas…. _"It pays a debt," she murmured.

The woman nodded encouragingly. "Just think of that," she replied with a smile.

Citrine shook her head despairingly. _What can I do? _"It pays a debt…" she repeated. _Ten gold pieces may be the only thing that can save my poor child Esiwmas! _

She turned to the woman quickly. "Alright," she murmured softly. "Take the lot. Ten gold pieces, no less." The woman smiled.

"Of course Dearie!" Then she grabbed Citrine's arm and pulled her into her shop. The hobbit was shoved roughly into a chair and she head jerked back. It was an odd sensation. Before she could protest, or think twice, the woman began hacking away at her golden hair with a rusty knife. At one point it nicked her face, or maybe it was just the woman's nails, and Citrine cried out. She bit her lip, murmuring in pain.

A few long minutes later, the deed was done and Citrine was back on the street with her ten gold pieces in her hand and her hair cropped short to her head. She wore a cap over it, hiding the mess, but she huddled against a wall, tears pricking in her eyes. She looked hideous.

It was no surprise when a man, accompanied by his wife or partner approached her this time.

"Come over here," she man said slowly. "I give twenty gold pieces for a tooth!" His eyes were red, bloodshot.

Another woman grabbed her arm and Citrine looked up at her with dull eyes. "I'll pay you well for your youth," she whispered. Citrine turned away, disgusted. The tooth man continued.

"The pain won't last," he promised, but to Citrine it was not any comfort. He did not sound very convincing. "You will still be able to bite…. Food," he added as an afterthought. The woman with him smacked him on the shoulder, annoyed.

"Just the back ones," she reminded him. He scowled and nodded. The two of them turned to Citrine questioningly. Their eyes said _what will it be? What will it be?_

"You…" Citrine trailed off. "You will pay me what I am due first or else we have no deal," she demanded slowly. The woman nodded quickly, her head bobbing, and her man grabbed her arm, pulling her into their own shop and pushing her into a chair of their own.

"I'll give you three times as much if you let me take two from you!" Citrine only nodded, thinking only of the money she could send for Esiwmas. The man grabbed his wrench and pried her mouth open. She squirmed, but it was no use. Cries, screams, blood, and two teeth later, Citrine was back on the street, shivering in the cold and clutching a rag to her bleeding gums and her knit hat sliding off of her almost shaven head.

A small group of whores and their friends walked by, eyeing her. The man with them- his name was Nik- turned to the girls expectantly. "Give me the dirt!" he said, pointing to Citrine's trembling form. "Who's that girl over there? She's mighty fine indeed! I could almost take her myself! What in Sauron's name is she doing here?" One girl nudged the other and a third spoke up.

"That one?" she asked. "She's the one who sold her hair!" The man nodded, as if that answered everything.

"She has a kid, I believe," said the second girl.

"A boy," the first agreed. "She sends him all she can!"

The man clutched his chest, hand over his heart mockingly. "Then I am too late! I am too late!" He laughed, shaking his head. "But in all seriousness… I might have known. There is ALWAYS some man, is there not?" another laugh escaped his lips and her sauntered over to Citrine.

"Hello, my lovely lady," he said, grinning. "How about you come along with us? Join us!" Citrine turned away, her face red. "Lovely lady…" he trailed off as Citrine spit at him and curled up in a ball on the ground.

One of the three girls approached her slowly, curiously. "Come on, Dearie," she murmured. "What is with all the fuss?" Her eyes were cold, unsympathetic. "You are not any grander than the rest of us, not matter what you say. After all, you are here. You would not be here if you were any better." Another girl pushed her away, stepping in front of Citrine instead.

"I get it, love. I do. Life has dropped you at the bottom of the heap and you do not know what to do. I have been there. We all have." The last one crouched down next to her, and they exchanged a quick glance before she spoke to Citrine, her voice no more than a faint whisper.

"Join us," she urged Citrine. "Your sisters." She gestured to the other whores who had gathered round. "And come, now. Make money in your sleep. It is easy. Easier than falling asleep." Citrine blinked away tears and sat up slowly.

The first girl nodded, smiling. "That's right Dearie." She offered her hand to Citrine, who turned it down. She climbed to her feet herself, staggering. She brushed the dirt off of herself the best she could, carelessly. She looked around at the girl's faces.

The crowd parted and Nik stood there, holding out his hand. In slight confusion, citrine took it. Was she to lie with him? Surely not…

"Show him what you have got," one of the girls whispered and Citrine was suddenly filled with fear if what was to come. Nik lead her down the street and she knew he was not the one. _They are never this formal_, she thought hazily.

"Come on, Dearie," another girl murmured as she neared the end. The girl stood hand in hand with a man, a captain of some sort. A part of the army.

_Ah. _So this was him. He was… handsome, to say the least. Citrine pushed the thought from her mind.

"Let him have the lot." Citrine was not certain who had spoken this time. For all she knew, it was her own mind speaking to her. She felt dizzy and nauseous. She reached out her hand to the man, dropping Nik's. He actually looked disappointed.

The man's expression did not change; he simply let Citrine grab his hand. She waited for him to pull her away to an alley, but she realized with a start that he would not do that. That was her job. Citrine thought she was going to be sick to her stomach. Humiliated, she began to lead him toward the water.

"Come on, Captain," she said shakily through grit teeth. "Let's get this over with." The smirk he gave her showed no sign of ending it soon, but Citrine did not see it. She did not have to. She knew. "Does it not make a change for you to have a girl who cannot refuse you?" her voice was wry, and she let out a sharp laugh that turned into a grimace. _It's easy money, _she told herself. _Easy money lying on a bed. _She let out a rough laugh as they reached the bed. The man took her by the shoulders, and began unlacing her corset. _Just as well, _she thought with a small sigh, _that they do not see the hate that is in my head. _The man turned her around roughly and suddenly pushed her down onto the bed. _You would think… _she groaned as he pulled up her dress. _Don't they know that they are making love to someone who is already dead? _This was her last thought before she went into turmoil.

The man left. He tossed a few coins at her feet, less than she had made with her two missing teeth. Citrine lay very still for a few minutes, knowing she had to get out of there as soon as she could, but not ready to face the world again just yet. Her breath was coming out in ragged gasps, her chest heaving. Tears stained her face.

_There was a time… when men were kind. And their voices were soft. And their words were inviting. There was a time when love was blind, and the world was a song. And… that song was exciting. There was a time… _"Then it all went wrong!" she cried. _I dreamed a dream in time gone by. When hope was high and life was worth living. I dreamed that love would never die. I dreamed that God would be forgiving. Then I was young and unafraid and dreams were made and used and wasted. There was no ransom to be paid. No song unsung, no wine untasted. But the tigers come at night with their voices soft as thunder. As they tear your hope apart; as they turn your dream to shame._

_He slept a summer by my side. He filled my days with endless wonder. He took my childhood in his stride, but he was gone when autumn came. And still I dream he'll come to me,  
that we will live the years together. But there are dreams that cannot be, and there are storms we cannot weather._

_I had a dream my life would be so different from this hell I am living, so different now from what it seemed. _"Now life has killed the dream I… dreamed." Citrine coughed, shaking and pushed herself out of the bed, her shoulders shaking.  
She stumbled toward the door, chest still heaving. She bent down to pick up her dress from the dirty floor, and fell to her knees, unbalanced. A single tear rolled down her face as she scrambled to her feet, skinned knees trembling. She held the doorframe for support as she walked out, back into the streets.

Citrine turned down an alley, trying to find her way out, but in her confusion and pain she lost her way and leaned against a wall for support. There she remained for several minutes before she felt a light touch on her shivering shoulder. She buried her face in the brick.

"Go away," she murmured. The grip on her arm tightened and she spun around. It belonged to a hobbit whose name was well known in the docks, though not so much to Citrine. His name was Bandobras. He had another name too but that was kept from most people. He was a pompous man, not young by any means but not having aged enough to be considered old either. He was known for fooling around with the whores, and tonight he chose Citrine.

She pushed him away, but he only laughed. He bent down and scooped up a handful of snow from the ground, and grabbed the front of her dress. He stuffed the snow down the front, forcing a squeak out of her. Usually this would've been enough for him to claim one of the regular girls, but Citrine only wanted to get as far away from Bandobras as possible. Anger boiling up inside of her, she struck him, nails digging into the side of his face. His head snapped back and he clutched his cheek in pain. When he removed his hand, his palm was red and blood dripped from his jaw.

He gasped at her in amazement. "You'll pay for what you've done!" he shook his head and narrowed his eyes. "I guarantee I'll make you suffer!" Citrine shook, backing up and tried to duck around him.

"Please, sir… don't report! I'll do anything you want, just please don't… I have a daughter…"

Bandobras shook his head, an evil glint in his eyes. "Make your excuses to the… _POLICE!" _He shouted the last word, making a call to anyone who might be around. The ladies within earshot scattered, hiding in their shops and between walls as four officers strode through, holding their truncheons at the ready. At the head was Stoph, the shortest of the bunch, as the rest were men. He wove quickly through until he came upon Citrine and Bandobras.

"Tell me quickly, what's the story!" Stoph's voice was loud and booming for a hobbit, and Citrine shrank back in fear. Bandobras turned to the Inspector confidently. "Did anyone see what happened here? Let him give a full description! In this…" he looked around, letting out a hiss. "_Nest _of whores and vipers, I want one person who saw it all to speak. Who laid a hand on this good man?" Bandobras smiled, but it was more of a twisted smirk.

"Stoph!" his voice was full of mock-friendship with the inspector. "I was walking from the park when this girl attacked me- would you believe it? I was minding my own business, but you can she left her mark!" Stoph eyes Citrine, who shrank further into the shadows, afraid to protest. He motioned to one of the officers to grab her as he replied to Bandobras.

"When you make a full report, good sir, she will answer for her actions at the court." Citrine had been held limply by the officer, but at Stoph's words she wrenched away and fell to her knees at his feet. He looked down at her in disgust as she spoke.

"I have a child, staying with innkeepers… and he needs me!" Stoph raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Please sir!" Citrine's voice was weak. She raised her hand two feet from the ground. "He's only this tall, barely grown at all! Can you show no mercy? If I go to court he'll die!" She clawed desperately at his pant leg and Stoph kicked her away.

He peered down at her oddly. "I have heard such protestations every day for twenty years. I don't want to hear any more explanations tonight, girl." The officer grabbed her again, and he motioned for them to leave, to take Citrine to the jail. Stoph turned to Bandobras and wrote him a note with the date and information of the trial. The hobbit nodded gratefully and disappeared, but not before shooting a snarky smirk at Citrine. She cringed as the officer hauled her to her feet. Stoph turned to go when he heard a quiet voice behind him.

"May I have a moment of your time, Stoph?" He turned round to find himself face to face with the mayor, our own Bilbo Baggins. He cocked an eyebrow.

"Go on…"

"I do believe this woman's tale, Inspector." Stoph's jaw dropped and he held up a hand to halt the officer holding Citrine.

"But… Mr. Mayor!" the shock was evident in his voice. "Why… how long were you even listening?" Bilbo waved his hand airily.

"That's of no matter. You've done your duty, sir, now let her be. Can't you see that it is not a jail she needs, but a doctor?" Rage made Stoph's face contort.

"But _Mr. Mayor_!" Citrine gasped, looking at the two hobbits as they faced off.

_"Can this be…?"_ she whispered. Bilbo shook his head at Stoph, disappointment in his eyes.

"Where will she end?" she asked Stoph. "And her child?" Stoph snorted in disgust, but did not dare contradict the mayor. Bilbo knelt beside Citrine. "I've seen your face before," he murmured. "Show me how I can help you. Pray tell me, how have you come to grief in a place like this?" he placed his hand on her warm forehead, and stroked her cheek gently. Citrine shied away from him nervously, her eyes cold.

"Sir, I pray that you don't mock me now. It's hard enough that I've lost my pride!" at this she gestured down to her torn and tattered dress. Bilbo sat upright, staring at her in confusion. She shook her head angrily at his ignorance. "YOU LET YOUR FOREMAN SEND ME AWAY!" Bilbo's eyes widened as he realized where he knew her from. She nodded. "That's right! You were there and you turned aside!" She spit angrily in Bilbo's face and then hid her face in shame. He wasn't angry, just concerned, and he reached out to her.

"I never did no wrong," she said, a cough racking her body.

"Is it… true what I have done to you?" Bilbo asked. She ignored him, hugging her knees and whispering to herself.

"My son is close to dying…" Bilbo looked at her sadly.

"You poor innocent soul… had I only known then…" Citrine coughed again, shaking.

"If there indeed is some sort of God… he'd let me die instead!" Bilbo frowned, and then pursed his lips, standing up.

"Then it is in his name that my task has just begun!" he bent down and scooped Citrine up in his arms. She gasped audibly, echoed by Stoph. "I will take her to the hospital!" Stoph stepped forward quickly.

"Mr. Mayor!"

Bilbo ignored his protests and questioned Citrine once more. "Where is your child?" Stoph gaped at him.

"But Mr. Mayor!"

Citrine shook in Bilbo's arms. "With an innkeeper, in Bywater," she whispered.

"I will bring him to you." Citrine gasped and Stoph was practically bursting with rage.

_"Mr. Mayor!" _

Bilbo strode off down the path, despite Stoph's angry shouts. "I will see it done," he told her.

"Mr. Mayor, I'm warning you…"

Bilbo shouted back to the inspector over the wind.

"I will see it done!" Then they disappeared, leaving Stoph standing with the four officers in the darkness, the wind starting to pick up as the rain began to fall. Straightening his hat on his head, Stoph beckoned them to follow him and they trudged away from the docks. Behind them the prostitutes began to reappear from their hiding spots to resume their own duties.

* * *

**Don't forget to leave a review, especially if you're following me on instagram or twitter or tumblr! (You know who you are)**


	7. A Letter From Isengard

**As promised, I'm trying to do a chapter a day! Here you go! I don't own things.**

The work of a policeman is always lonely, and sometimes results in failures far beyond the imagination. This was the case for Stoph, who never dreamed he would make a mistake, or pick up a false lead. And in the end he didn't. But this was not known to him until much later. This is the beginning of the end of Mr. Mayor Posco Underhill.

Bilbo was sitting in his office, starting to gather his things to take with him to the hospital. He was determined to get Citrine's child to her before she died. It was obvious that she would die, and it would be soon. But he didn't want her to die unhappily.

His back was to the entrance of the office when he heard a loud knock on the door. He was bending over, digging some papers from under his desk. "Come in!" he called invitingly. He heard the door open and close quickly. Footsteps approached the desk more slowly, and they came to a stop behind Bilbo. The mayor raised his head, hitting it on the desk. "Ow…" he muttered, grabbing at his curls in pain. Grunting, he sat up and spun his chair around to face his guest. It was Stoph.

"Welcome again, Inspector. On what occasion do you visit me this time?" He tried to smile.

"Sir," Stoph said, his face blank of emotion. "I have a crime to declare." Bilbo's eyebrows rose. He frowned and stood up, pacing forward to face Stoph.

"Go on…"

Stoph took a shuddering breath and launched into his tale. "When I saw you that first day, I said I thought we had met. You denied it. When I saw you hop that fence… your agility reminded me of that of a convict I knew a long time ago. I disbelieved my eyes for hours… but I couldn't deny what I saw." He shook his head.

"What are you saying?" Bilbo asked warily.

"In short…" Stoph sighed. "I mistook you for a convict. And then I made a false report." Bilbo blinked.

"Wha… what?"

"Yes." He bowed his head. "Then… I received a letter from Isengard. They have caught the culprit. He will be answering to the court tonight." Bilbo's jaw drooped. Stoph, misreading his expression, held out the letter. "Do not worry…. It is not you they have captured!" Bilbo played along, and took the letter almost automatically.

_"Dear Sir,_

_We write this to you with great urgency. We have just received word that the criminal from Prison Camp 42, Prisoner number 24601 has been caught. You will recall him, I was told, better than others will. He will appear at trial in Hobbiton, The Shire tonight at 7:30. We ask that you come if convenient. If inconvenient, come anyway. He denies being Bilbo Baggins, but it has been confirmed by multiple sources. You are the last one. Please be at the Hobbiton courthouse promptly at 7:30. _

_Sincerely,_

_The honorable Ernest Woolley_

_Captain of the Isengard forces."_

Bilbo mouthed the words to himself, and Stoph continued with his explanation. "Of course he now denies it!" he said in disgust. "You'd expect that of a con." Bilbo just nodded, being unable to say anything different. "He could not run forever, though," Stoph finished. "I knew that much. "No man can escape me, I told you that. No… not even Bilbo Baggins!" Bilbo stiffened at the sound of his name. He took a few long moments to think.

"This letter says that he shows no sign of understanding or repentance… and that he is sure to be returned to the work camps and serve his sentence. Is that right?"

Stoph didn't reply. He simply looked out straight ahead of him. "He will pay for the crimes he has committed." Bilbo opened his mouth to reply but Stoph continued. "And so must I." Bilbo watched in shock as Stoph removed his sword from his belt and held it out in front of him. He got down on one knee and bowed his head in shame. "P…. press charges against me, Sir."

Bilbo walked toward the Inspector slowly, and he trembled before the mayor. He placed his hand upon the hilt of Stoph's sword and the Inspector lowered his head a little more, showing his acceptance to the obvious outcome.

_ O loving and kind God, have mercy. Have pity upon me and take away the awful stain of my transgressions. Oh, wash me, cleanse me from this guilt. Let me be pure again. For I admit my shameful deed-it haunts me day and night. It is against you and you alone I sinned and did this terrible thing. You saw it all, and your sentence against me is just. Create in me a new, clean heart, O God, filled with clean thoughts and right desires. Don't toss me aside, banished forever from your presence. Don't take Your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me again the joy of your salvation, and make me willing to obey you._

He was not prepared for what came next.

Bilbo pushed the sword back to Stoph's chest. "You have only done your duty, Inspector. It's a…. minor sin, at most." He frowned. "Each of us has made misjudgments… you will return to your post, sir."

Stoph blinked and surprise. He was in too much shock to even reply. He simply stood up, nodded quickly, and walked out without a word. Bilbo pursed his lips as he watched the Inspector leave the room. His feet stayed planted on the floor of his office, and he raised his chin defiantly. He refused to give in to the urge to jump with joy. He forced his mind to stop racing for just a few moments. When he had finally calmed his heartbeat down, he wandered slowly over to his desk. And it wasn't a moment too soon, because his legs suddenly gave out and he gripped the edge of the desk for support. He sank into his chair, holding his head.

_They think that man is me, _he thought in amazement. _They did not even give him a second glance. Do all convicts look the same? Or is it because he is a hobbit? What hobbit would they have captured? _He did not even want to think about it. _I have waited for this moment, and now this man could be my chance! _He stared down at the desk, giving it a cold, hard stare. _Why should I save his hide? What has he ever done for me? I do not even know this man! I am certain he is a convict too. He will be convicted for some crime, at least. Why should I right this wrong? I have struggled for so many years and now I have come so far. _Suddenly another thought popped into Bilbo's head.

_But what if he's not a convict at all? What if he is just a regular everyday hobbit? It is not unusual for men to mistake hobbits for each other. How can I let this innocent man be sentenced to life in prison, or even death? If I stay silent, I am damned… If I speak I am condemned. _

He stood up and shoved the rest of his important work papers and supplies into his bag. He looked out the window at the factory below as its employees left for the day, hurrying home through the streets.

_I am the master of hundreds of workers! _He thought to himself. He frantically tried to justify not turning himself in. _And of course they all look to me to supply them with money and a job. If I am not free, how will they live?_ Sudden realization dawned on Bilbo, showing the true seriousness of the situation. _If I speak, _he realized in horror, _they are condemned. If I stay silent then I am damned…_

He threw his bag over his shoulder and dashed down the stairs. He climbed into the carriage that was waiting for him in the street. The driver picked up the reins and Bilbo handed him an extra silver coin.

"Sir!" he exclaimed, shocked that he extra money. Bilbo smiled grimly.

"Take me home in half the time," he instructed the driver. The hobbit nodded.  
"Yes Mr. Underhill! Thank you!" he slapped the reins and sent the horse off at a fast gait.

In less than five minutes, Bilbo was jumping out of the carriage and running into his hobbit hole. Immediately he began packing his gold and other prized possessions of importance and value.

"Who am I?" he whispered to himself. _Can I condemn this man to slavery? I am unable to pretend I do not feel his agony myself. And now this innocent hobbit who simply happens to resemble me will be sent to judgment in my place… _"Who am I?"

He frowned into the fireplace, crackling with coals. _Can I conceal myself for the rest of my life? I hate having to pretend that I am not the hobbit I once was. And must my name be no more than an alibi until my death?_

"Must I lie?" He stood up and paced back and forth in front of the window. _How can I ever face my fellow hobbits or myself again? _He picked up the medallion that held so much power and influence over him and his clone. He held it up in front of him. The reflection of the setting sun bounced off of it, glaring straight at him right in the eye.

"I know my soul belongs to God!" he cried out loudly. "I made that promise LONG AGO!" Bilbo clutched the chain to his chest and tears began to flow freely down his face.

"When hope was gone, you gave me hope! You gave me strength to journey on!" Bilbo pushed his old work papers off the table. They landed in the fire, burning all records and memories of Posco Underhill.

_Who am I?_ "WHO AM I?" He closed his eyes and tore out of the house. "I'm Bilbo Baggins." His pony was grazing outside, and he threw his head up in surprise as Bilbo tossed his saddle and bridle on him. Then using the fence post as a step, he mounted the pony and dug his heels into his sides.

"YAAA!" he shouted as the pony shot off into the darkness. They galloped through the streets, Bilbo flapping the reins. When he reached the courthouse, Bilbo jumped off the pony and burst through the door. A combination of men and hobbits attempted to stop him, but he pushed past them, head held high.

"Mr. Underhill!" he judge, a man who had resided in the Shire for as long as Bilbo had, jumped out of his seat. He had been one of the nicer men, always kind and helpful to Bilbo. But now the mayor ignored the judge's cries. He pulled open his shirt, popping the buttons on it. Written across his chest was he prison number, written in the ink of a tattoo. It always came of eventually, he had figured. The eyes of all the men grew wide.

"And now, your Honor, you see it is true! This man," he said, gesturing to the convict on the podium. "He bears no more guilt to this crime then you do!"

"Sir…" Bilbo cut him off, his eyes blazing with adrenaline.

"Who am I?" he pointed to himself. "85201!" Everyone gathered in the court stood up and stared at the mayor in shock and confusion.

"Sir!" one of the guards walked up the Bilbo, flanked by another. "You, Mr. Underhill, are not well," he said. Both guards started leading him out of the court. Bilbo turned his head wildly, and broke away from them.

"Don't believe me? Ask Inspector Stoph! You will find me at the hospital," he said, and then turned back to face the judge. "Anon." He caught the eye of the convicted hobbit. The poor man looked absolutely terrified. Bilbo gave him a quick nod of appreciation, and fled the court building.


	8. The Confrontation

**Again, so sorry for this taking so long. I'm done wioth school now, at least. I don't own most stuff.**

* * *

On the other side of Hobbiton, Citrine laid in a hospital bed, sleeping restlessly. Her dreams were haunted by her young son Esiwmas. She dreamed he was with her, and cried out to him in her fitful sleep. "Esi, it's turned so cold…" she whispered. "Esi, it's past your bedtime. You've played the day away, and soon it will be night." She turned over in her bed, half- awake now. She imagined that the young hobbit boy was standing just a few inches away from her. In her delusion, she reached out to him, but no childish hand met her fingertips.

"Come to me Esi, the light is fading. Don't you see the beautiful evening star appearing? Look how brightly it shines for you!" She smiled and patted her side. "Come to me, and rest against my shoulder, my darling son. You've grown up so fast. Look at how fast the minutes fly away and every minute is getting colder."

Citrine's eyes opened halfway, her lids drooping. "Hurry near, my Esiwmas. Another long cold day is dying. Don't you hear the winter wind crying in your sleep? There's a darkness which comes without a warning. But I will sing you lullabies and wake you in the morning…"

Her happy dream was interrupted by Bilbo Baggins suddenly appearing in the doorway. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her stirring. She had not perished yet.

"Dear Citrine," he said, walking over to her slowly. "Esiwmas will be here soon. I promise." It was a lie, but Citrine seemed satisfied. Bilbo removed his hat and kneeled by her bedside. "Dear Citrine, he will be by your side." Citrine woke fully, and seemed to realize that her son was not truly there at all.

She sat up in bed, alarmed. "Come, Esi! My child! Where did you go?" she let out a heart wrenching sob, and Bilbo leaned over, encasing her in his strong arms, lying her down on the bed once again.

"Be at peace," he whispered to her. "Be at peace evermore."

"Bye… Esiwmas…" she mumbled, starting to drift off again. Bilbo stood up slowly.

"He will live in my protection, Citrine. I swear," he promised.

"Take her now!" she begged, clasping her hands together in prayer. Bilbo took her hands in his own, smiling down at her.

"Your child will want for nothing," he assured her. She let out a gasping breath.

"Good sir… you come to me from God in heaven," she whispered. Bilbo shook his head, almost laughing a bit.

"And none will ever harm Esiwmas as long as I am living," he replied.

"Take my child… I give him to your keeping," she breathed.

"Take shelter from the storm," Bilbo mumbled.

It was then that Citrine spoke her last words. "For God's sake, please stay till I am sleeping," she begged with large, pleading eyes. Bilbo smiled at her, nodding.

"Yes," he promised. "I will."

Citrine nodded. "And tell Esi I love him, and I'll see him when I wake..." her eyes drooped shut and her head relaxed. She was gone. Bilbo choked back a sob of distraught and shock, and her positioned her so she appeared to still only be sleeping. Kneeling once more, he murmured a quick prayer.

"Lord in heaven, look down on her in mercy! Forgive her all her trespasses and take her to your glory. Take my hand, I'll lead you to salvation. Take my love, for love is everlasting.  
And remember the truth that once was spoken: To love another person is to see the face of God!"

Bilbo knelt by Citrine's bedside, his head bowed. Finally he stood, preparing to depart. He knew he could not stay In Hobbiton much longer. Eventually Stoph would come after him. But first he had to fetch Citrine's child. She had said that Esiwmas was with an innkeeper and his wife in Bywater. Bilbo was not certain, but he had inkling as to who these innkeepers were. His second cousin Lobelia Baggins had married a man named Otho Sackville and moved to Bywater. The family was infamously known as the Sackville-Bagginses, and they were typically disliked by all, including Bilbo. It was no wonder Citrine wanted her son away from them. Bilbo would not wish that on anyone.

A creaking floorboard pulled Bilbo's attention away from the woman. He assumed the nurses had come to check on Citrine. With a heavy heart, he turned saying "She's dead." His eyes landed on the figure in front of him. It was not a nurse. It was Stoph.

The inspector stepped forward, not even acknowledging thye dead hobbit. His eyes remained locked on Bilbo, unmoving. "At last, Baggins," he said with a satisfied smile. "We see each other plain." He smirked. "Mr. Underhill, the Mayor… you will be wearing a different chain now." Bilbo backed up, gesturing to the body of Citrine.

"Before you say another word, Stoph… Before you chain me up like a slave again… Listen to me, please!" His eyes were pleading, but not for himself. "There is something I must do!" Stoph raised an eyebrow, looking at Bilbo expectantly. "This woman," he began, pointing to Citrine, "leaves behind a suffering child! No one but me knows about it! There is no one but me who can intercede!" His eyes were wide and pleading. "In Mercy's name, three days are all I need!" he started inching his way along the wall so he could get to a place where he could escape.  
"Then I'll return," he exclaimed, ducking behind the curtain. "I pledge my word!" Stoph's eyes glinted and he drew his sword, ripping through the curtain. "Then I'll return," he repeated urgently. Stoph looked him in the eye, raising the sword to Bilbo. The poor hobbit, scared, ripped a piece of wood fro, the wall, using it as a shield from the sharp tip.

"You must think me mad!" Stoph exclaimed in surprise. "I have hunted you across Middle Earth for ten years! Men like you can never change; a man such as you!" he raised the sword, slicing through the air at Bilbo. The hobbit blocked the blow with the wood.

"Believe of me what you will, Stoph! There is a duty that I'm sworn to do!" He raised his voice, but Stoph shouted over him.

"Men like you can never change!" he repeated. "Men like you can never change!" Bilbo's eyes darkened.

"You know nothing of my life," he shouted. Stoph shook his head.

"No! 85201! My duty is to the law, Baggins! You have no rights!" he declared.

"All I did was find that ring!" Bilbo screeched angrily.

"Just come with me, 85201," Stoph muttered. "Then there will be no trouble." Bilbo narrowed his eyes at the inspector.

"I will!" he promised. "But not before I see this justice done!" Stoph's face contorted in anger and anticipation.

"Bilbo Baggins is nothing now!" he crowed triumphantly. Bilbo moved in closer to Stoph, pressing his piece of wood against the sword.

"I am warning you Stoph!" he growled. "I'm a stronger man by far! There is power in me yet! My race is not yet run!" Stoph's eyes burned with a burning hated for the convict.

"Dare you talk to me of crime and the price you had to pay? Every man is born in sin and every man must choose his way!" He slashed at Bilbo's face three times, the convict backing up more and more with each attack. He lunged at the Inspector, trying to grab his sword.

"I am warning you Stoph!" he continued. "There is nothing I will not dare to do! If I have to kill you here, I will do what has to be done!" A hint of fear glinted in Stoph's eyes as he saw the bloodlust on Bilbo's face. He snatched his sword out of reach and knocked the wood from Bilbo's hands while the convict was distracted. Bilbo raised his hands in sudden surrender as Stoph touched the tip of the sword to his chest.

"You know nothing of Stoph," he inspector said dangerously, pacing toward Bilbo. This caused the hobbit to back up until his back was pressed against the far wall. He coughed as the blade poked his skin. "I was born inside a jail! I was born with scum like you! I am from the gutter too!" The whole tine Stoph had been speaking, Bilbo had been fumbling with the doorknob that he knew was there. Stoph moved the sword and prepared to swing at the hobbit's neck when Bilbo turned the doorknob. The door opened and Bilbo turned around. He launched himself out the door and into the swirling water below. Stoph grabbed the edge of the wall to stop himself from plunging after him, and he watched as the water stirred and then settled. Cursing, Stoph turned on his heel and ran out the main entrance.


	9. Esiwmas

**I'm really really sorry everyone! I just started rehearsals and I've been really busy! But you knew that...**

* * *

On a map of the Shire, Bywater lays only a day's walk from the center of Hobbiton. In the center of Bywater there is an inn named The Green Dragon Tavern. It still remains, although it's ownership and usage has changed many times over the years. At this point in time it belongs to the Sackville-Bagginses, a surly family of hobbits who are too poor to be honest people. They made enough money to appear well off by pickpocketing. The Sackville-Baggins, whose names were Lobelia and Otho, had one child of their own at the time. Her name was Camellia, named after Lobelia's mother, and she will play a vital role in this tale before it is all over.

Their only on progeny was a young boy, the same age as Camellia at about eight years. He, however, was not the offspring of the innkeepers at all, although when it suited them he was considered part of the family. At all other times, he was shunned by everyone. His name was Esiwmas, and he was the son of poor old Citrine.

Esiwmas could be spotted from a distance by his fair hair. It was longish and unruly, a sign up his bad keeping. A splattering of freckles dotted his face, and when he smiled (which was not often) his whole face lit up. Esiwmas was used to doing chores around the inn, especially before they opened each day.

On this particular day, he was sweeping the floor. He hummed to himself a little bit, not to any particular tune, but just in general. For a few minutes he was content with the rhythm of the broom on the floor, but he was shook out of it my Lobelia's hand on his shoulder.

"Look who it is," she sneered. "The little Monsieur himself!" Esiwmas looked down, biting his lip nervously. "Get off your ass and go and fetch some water from the well!" Esiwmas knew where the well was. He had fetched the water many times before. But it was deep in the forest, and he had never been in the dark before. He dropped the broom and walked slowly toward the door.

As he walked outside, Camellia skipped into the house. She gave Esiwmas a huge smile. It was an honest one, but the little hobbit only scowled back and sulked outside. Ignoring his bitter expression, Camellia skipped over to Lobelia.

"Mama!" she cheered, running into her mama's open arms.

"Camellia, dear Camellia!" she exclaimed in joy. "Look how lovely you look in your little red dress! Some little children know what to wear and how to look good!" Camellia beamed and spun around, showing off its flair. She stopped, facing the window, and she spotted Esiwmas, peering inside at them. She waved tentatively. Esiwmas ducked but it was too late. Lobelia stood up and caught Esiwmas watching. "Still there Esiwmas?" she shouted.

The boy ducked his head nervously. "Please do not send me out alone," he pleaded. "Not in the darkness on my own!" Lobelia stood up and marched over to the window, sticking her face in it. Esiwmas flinched.

"Now shut your face!" she snarled, "Or I'll forget to be nice!" Esiwmas wrinkled his nose. _You are being _nice_? _He wondered. "You heard me ask for something and I never ask twice!" The little hobbit hung his head, and walked off in the direction of the forest.

Once Lobelia was certain he was gone, she faced Camellia. "Now go get ready, darling," she said. Camellia nodded and raced off. Then Lobelia walked over to Otho who was asleep on the floor, drunkenly kissing a barrel.

"Wakey, wakey," she said. "We're opening."

With grunts of "I love you. I love you so much," to the barrel, he staggered to his feet and began the age old Tavern song of the Green Dragon. "My band of soaks, my den of dissolute's. My dirty jokes, my always pissed as newts. My sons of whores spend their lives in my inn. Homing pigeons homing in. They fly through my doors, and their money's good as yours!"

The first man of the night walked through the door and Otho patted him on the back. "Welcome, good sir, sit yourself down. And meet the best innkeeper in town! As for the rest, all of 'em crooks. Rooking their guests and crooking the books. Seldom do you see honest men like me. A gent of good intent who's content to be…

"Master of the house, doling out the charm ready with a handshake and an open palm! Tells a saucy tale, makes a little stir. Customers appreciate a bon-viveur! Glad to do a friend a favor. Doesn't cost me to be nice! But nothing gets you nothing everything has got a little price!"

It was at that moment that little Camellia rushed into the room with Otho's hat. "Papa!" she exclaimed, placing it on his head. He lifted her up, kissed her on the cheek, and placed her down again before continuing the song.

"Master of the house, keeper of the zoo. Ready to relieve 'em of a sou or two. Watering the wine, making up the weight. Pickin' up their knick-knacks when they can't see straight! Everybody loves a landlord! Everybody's bosom friend! I do whatever pleases… Jesus! Won't I bleed 'em in the end!

You must keep in mind that both of the two spent all their time stealing the valuable stuff from the costumers as they came in. And yet no one noticed. Or cared.

"Master of the house, quick to catch yer eye! Never wants a passerby to pass him by! Servant to the poor, baron to the great, comforter, philosopher, and lifelong mate! Everybody's boon companion… Everybody's chaperone! But lock up your valises- Jesus! Won't I skin you to the bone!

Otho welcomed yet another new guest in, and patted a bed with a grin, before swiping the man's hat.

"Enter Monsieur, lay down your load! Unlace your boots, rest from the road! This weighs a ton, travel's a curse. But here we strive to lighten your purse! Here the goose is cooked, here the fat is fried! And nothing's overlooked till I'm satisfied!"

"Food beyond compare, food beyond belief! Mix it in a mincer and pretend its beef! Kidney of a horse, liver of a cat. Filling up the sausages with this and that!" A fat dwarf sat upon a stack of tables and chairs. Otho tossed him a sausage and the extra weight caused the whole pile to come crashing down, the dwarf with it. There were laughs all around. "Residents are more than welcome! Bridal suite is occupied! Reasonable charges plus some little extras on the side!

"Charge 'em for the lice, extra for the mice! Two percent for looking in the mirror twice! Here a little slice, there a little cut. Three percent for sleeping with the window shut! When it comes to fixing prices there are a lot of tricks he knows… How it all increases, all them bits and pieces…Jesus! It's amazing how it grows!

"Master of the house, quick to catch yer eye! Never wants a passerby to pass him by!  
Servant to the poor, baron to the great! Comforter, philosopher, and lifelong mate! Everybody's boon companion gives 'em everything he's got! Dirty bunch of geezers… Jesus! What a sorry little lot!

It was at this time that Lobelia made her first appearance to the guests. She sauntered up to a dashing young man, much younger than herself. "I used to dream that I would meet a prince.  
But God Almighty, have you seen what's happened since? Master of the house? Isn't worth me spit! `Comforter, philosopher' and lifelong shit! Cunning little brain, regular Voltaire. Thinks he's quite a lover but there's not much there. What a cruel trick of nature landed me with such a louse!  
God knows how I've lasted living with this bastard in the house!

She pushed Otho away as he tried to kiss her and looked on, disgusted, as they continued to sing.

"Master of the house!"

"Master and a half!" she interjected.

"Comforter, philosopher…"

"Ah, don't make me laugh."

"Servant to the poor, baron to the great!"

"Hypocrite and toady and inebriate!"

"Everybody bless the landlord! Everybody bless his spouse! Everybody raise a glass…" They did.

"Raise it up the Master's ass!" Lobelia cheered. No one seemed to agree.

"Everybody raise a glass to the Master of the House!" There were cheers all around, and the guests drank the night away until each one passed out on the floor.

Bilbo, who had hidden in an alley, watched a small boy walk from the inn. Quickly he followed him from a distance, and watched him go into the forest. The boy could not have been more than eight years of age, and Bilbo wondered who could have possibly thought it would be acceptable to send a boy of that young an age into the woods alone. He answered his own question. The Sackville-Bagginses were the only ones that cruel. Bilbo shook his head in disgust.

The boy looked terrified out of his mind. He hesitated in going into the dark forest, and he even seemed to consider running off. However, something seemed to tell him that it was not a good idea and he hurried into the woods, glancing back over his shoulder. As the boy's gaze swept over the place Bilbo was watching from, he shrank back into the shadows. Then, when he was sure the boy would not see him, he darted out after him.

Now, do not get me wrong. Bilbo was not what you would call a pedophile. Nor was he a stalker or a criminal (At least not according to everyone except Stoph who probably thought he was all three of those. Although if you think about it, Stoph was the stalker.) He was simply concerned for the boy, who he believed to be Citrine's poor son.

The boy was humming. It seemed to give him confidence. However, Bilbo noticed that he started to look uncomfortable. He appeared lost. Sympathy clouded Bilbo's face and he stepped out of his hiding spot. The boy shrank back, cowering from the taller hobbit.

Bilbo walked toward him slowly. "Hush now," he said softly. The boy watched him with fearful eyes. "Do not be afraid of me." The boy took a tentative step toward Bilbo, nervously. "Come now," Bilbo said, kneeling. He held out his arms and looked around. "Tell me where you live!" The boy looked horrified and Bilbo mentally cursed himself. _That is no way to approach a child, _he thought to himself. He gave what he hoped was a kind, fatherly smile. "Tell me, my child," he whispered. "What is your name?" The boy nodded and out down his bucket with a hesitant smile.

"I am called Esiwmas," he whispered. Bilbo grinned widely.

"I knew… know… your mother," he said. "I am here to take you away from the Sackville-Bagginses, Esiwmas."

He gave a sad smile. "You know her? How is she? Will I get to see her? Soon? When, sir?" his eyes were wide and pleading. Bilbo could not bring himself to tell the child of his mother's death. Not yet.

"She is a wonderful hobbit," he said slowly. "She is very content knowing that you will be leaving here. And she will be with you forever." The boy did not see through the white lies, and Bilbo did not offer anything more. "The important thing now, Esiwmas, is that we get you back." Esiwmas nodded.

"I… I do not know the way, Sir," he whispered apologetically. Bilbo shook his head.

"But I do, my child. Come with me." He held out his hand and let the boy take it in his own. Then he led Esiwmas behind him back to the inn.

With the boy hiding behind him, Bilbo knocked on the door confidently.

Otho Sackville-Baggins opened the door drunkenly. "Who are you?" he asked, slurring his words together. Lobelia ran to the door, pushing her husband aside. A moment of recognition flashed before her eyes, but she could not place where she knew her own cousin from. Her eyes drifted to Esiwmas hiding behind Bilbo.

"Esiwmas! What are you doing here?" her voice was cold. "Come here now!" Esiwmas hesitated, looking at Bilbo nervously. He shook his head slightly. The boy stepped back. Bilbo took off his hat in a sweeping bow.

"I found him wandering in the wood, this little child, I found him trembling in the shadows." Otho stiffened angrily and Lobelia frowned, pursing her lips. "And I am here to help Esiwmas, and I will settle any debt you may think proper." The eyes of the two innkeepers shone at the word _debt._ "I will pay what I must pay," he murmured, "To take Esiwmas away." The two frowned at each other.

"I do not think that…"

"There is a duty I must heed," Bilbo interrupted. "There is a promise I have made. For I was blind to one in need… I did not see what stood before me." The Sackville-Bagginses looked at each other, confused.

"Now his mother is with God," he said plainly. Lobelia looked at Otho, a short and sharp _oh _sound leaping from her mouth. Esiwmas's hand twitched in surprise and Bilbo heard him make a small sound of disbelief. To his credit, he did not cry. Bilbo leaned over and picked up the boy, holding him on his hip. "Citrine's suffering is over. And I speak here with her voice, and I stand here in her place. And from this day and evermore…" Lobelia cut him off, reaching for his coat as Otho pulled him inside.

"Let me have your coat, sir," she offered. Bilbo shrugged her off, continuing to speak.

"Esiwmas shall live in my protection," he promised.

"You are very welcome here," Otho began, moving toward Bilbo's hat. He slapped the hand away.

"I shall not forsake my vow!"

Otho was determined to not give up in the attempted robbery of Bilbo. "Take a glass…"

Lobelia pulled out a chair, trying to push Bilbo into it. "Take a chair!" Bilbo glared at her, and pushed both away. They nodded in consent.

"Esiwmas shall have a father now!" he declared, picking up the child once more. He reached into his pocket and pulled out five gold pieces. He offered them to Otho who peered at them greedily.

He reached for them, but Lobelia slapped his hand away. He nodded. "What to do? What to say? Shall you carry our treasure away? What a gem! What a pearl! Beyond rubies is our little boy! How can we speak of debt?  
Let's not haggle for darling Esi!"

Bilbo eyed Otho warily as he continued.

"Dear Citrine, gone to rest... Have we done for her child what is best?" At this Lobelia nodded, and Otho smiled confidently. "I think so! Shared our bread. Shared each bone. Treated him like he's one of our own! Like our own, good Sir."

Bilbo narrowed his eyes and smiled knowingly, nodding his head. "Your feelings do you credit, sir. And I will ease the parting blow." He pressed the five gold pieces into Otho's palm. The innkeeper wrapped his hand around them excitedly as Bilbo continued. "Let us not talk of bargains or bones or greed. Now, may I say, we are agreed?" Otho went to nod his head and Lobelia pushed him aside. She grabbed the coins and counted them. Then she faced Bilbo proudly.

"That would quite fit the bill if he had not been ill so often." She approached Esiwmas who glared at her. "Little dear, cost us almost everything!" She leaned behind the child, coughing into his back. Otho followed her and contributed to the coughs. "Medicines are expensive, Sir! Not that we begrudged any amount… It's no more than the honest must do!" They both smiled wide, fake smiles.

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. "No more words. Here's your price. Ten gold pieces for your _sacrifice_." Looking at him, you would barely notice the inflection in his voice on _sacrifice,_ but it was there. "Come, Esiwmas," he said. "Let us seek out some friendlier skies…" his eyes drifted over the innkeepers. "Thank you both for Esiwmas. It won't take you too long to forget." The innkeepers frowned, but accepted the money without a word. And with that, Bilbo and Esiwmas disappeared around a corner quickly.

Otho strode back inside, counting the money. Lobelia remained at the door, looking out. A worried frown spread across her face. Finally Otho slammed his hand down on the table, money and all.

"Not bad!" he exclaimed, grinning. Lobelia rushed to him from the door, her eyes wide.

"Not _enough_!" She exclaimed. Otho frowned.

"What…?"

Lobelia smacked his hand, sending the money flying. "There's a copper at the door!" she exclaimed angrily. "What in the name of Mordor have you done?" There was knock on the door. Both innkeepers froze. The knock came twice more. Lobelia ran and opened it, Otho standing behind her. One might imagine which policeman would appear at the door of a house Bilbo Baggins had been at but moments before.

Stoph took off his hat, bowing. Lobelia said nothing, her face tight with fear. "Where is the child?" Stoph asked coldly. "Esiwmas?" Lobelia and Otho exchanged a quick glance.

"He has gone… with a gentleman!" She exclaimed. "He did not tell us where they went… he did not leave us him home address!" Stoph rolled his eyes and slammed the door shut in Lobelia's face. She cursed and stomped back inside.

Otho met her, and leaned in for a kiss. She pushed him away. "Next time, I'll get the lot. I promise." He moved in for another kiss which she promptly dismissed once again. Sulking, he went to the bedroom, leaving Lobelia alone with a mug of tea. Neither of them noticed Camellia who sat in the shadows watching the entire thing.

Bilbo and Esiwmas walked from the inn to the carriage Bilbo had arrived in. he bought the boy a toy sword he had spotted in a shop window. Esiwmas was delighted.

"Will you be like a Papa to me?" he asked Bilbo. The hobbit nodded, smiling ever so slightly.

"Yes, Esiwmas," he said sweetly. "This is true… I will be both mother AND father to you!" The boy smiled in delight and snuggled into Bilbo's arms as he picked him up. Bilbo carried him to the carriage and they both climbed into the back. Esiwmas lay down, his head in Bilbo's lap. As they drove, Bilbo smiled, thinking of the child who was now in his possession.

_He will consider me a father… I hope. _He smiled. He looked down at the sleeping boy. _He trusts me so… but he will be in constant danger all the time. For as long as I am on the run he runs the risk of being thrown out on the streets or being sent back to Lobelia and Otho. Did I really do the right thing here? _His eyes were bright with worry. _I do not know the first thing about parenting. And he is only a child… he knows nothing of my life. He has no idea that danger follows me wherever I go. _

Bilbo frowned, looking out of the window. _He can never know my past. He will be disgraced if it is discovered that he is the son of a criminal. I will never be alone again, and nor will he. We will learn together, and our lives will start again._

Shouting down the road roused Bilbo from his thoughts. He heard the thudding of hooves on the stone path, and the riders galloped past the line of carriages. Stoph was at the head of the pack- Bilbo recognized him from his short figure and white pony. He shrank back into the darkness of the carriage, and when the guard had passed her awoke Esiwmas.

"Esi," he whispered. "Wake up. Come with me." The young boy blinked, and as soon as his eyes opened Bilbo scooped him up in his arms. He swung open the door of the carriage and leaped out. He stumbled as his feet hit the ground and Esiwmas let out a quiet squeak. Bilbo clapped his hand over his mouth and raced across the street.

He wove through the alleyways, still carrying the confused Esiwmas. He picked up pace once he knew where they were headed. There was a hospital not far from where they were. Suddenly he heard a shout not far away.

"85201!" Stoph yelled. Bilbo stiffened.

_They found me… oh god… they found me! _He raced towards a high drop and placed Esiwmas on the ground. From his shoulder bag he withdrew a long rope. He narrowed his eyes and handed one end of the rope to Esiwmas.

"I'm going to hold this," he whispered urgently. "You need to just hang on to the end. I'm going to lower you down. When you get to the bottom, run. There's a door at the end of the path. Stay right there. Do you understand?" The child nodded, afraid. "Then go." Esiwmas balanced on the edge of the cliff and let himself be lowered down. When Bilbo felt the rope go slack, he tied his end to a tree. Praying that the knot would hold, he lowered himself down as well. It was a slow process. He heard the hoof beats growing nearer. Stoph leaped off his horse and swung his sword at the rope, trying to cut it.

Bilbo panicked and did the only thing he could think of that would get him out of this situation. He let go of the rope, hoping that there wasn't far to fall. A few feet later he was sitting on his butt in the dirt. The rope had fallen to the ground and Stoph was glaring down at him from atop his pony. Bilbo stumbled to his feet and backed up a few paces, his eyes not leaving the Inspector. Finally, with a frustrated shout, Stoph dug his heels into the pony's sides and spun him around. Once the inspector was out of sight, Bilbo turned and fled up the path until he came to the door which he had sent Esiwmas. The boy was there now, huddling in the doorway.

With a sigh of relief, Bilbo picked up the child. With his free hand he rapped thrice on the door, and a few seconds later a man met them on the doorstep. His eyes narrowed as he tried to make out Bilbo's figure in the darkness, and then they lit up with recognition.

"Mr. Mayor!" he exclaimed. Bilbo was instantly on guard.

"Who are you?" he asked, his hand flying to the sword at his belt. The man held out his hands defensively.

"Gorbulas Loamsdown," he said hoarsely. "You rescued my son!" Sure enough, the little boy peeked out from behind his father's pant leg and waved slightly. Bilbo smiled widely.

"Sir…" he placed Esiwmas down on the floor. "We need to disappear. We need a place to shelter." Loamsdown nodded in understanding.

"Come in, come in." And they did come in, without looking back.

Stoph stood atop a high building, looking over Bywater. He gazed at the stars in the night sky, his brow furrowed and his shoulders back. His gaze was troubled as he stared into the deep nothingness.

His eyes wandered to the bright star in the distance, and he kept his gaze locked on it. _He is out there somewhere tonight under this dark sky. He is nothing but a fugitive. A fugitive running._ _He has fallen from God. _Stoph sat on the edge of the roof and pulled his poem book from his pocket. As he stared at the sky he began to write, almost furiously, with an urgency even he did not quite understand.

_There, out in the darkness  
A fugitive running  
Fallen from god  
Fallen from grace  
God be my witness  
I never shall yield  
Till we come face to face  
Till we come face to face_

He knows his way in the dark  
Mine is the way of the Lord  
And those who follow the path of the righteous  
Shall have their reward  
And if they fall  
As Lucifer fell  
The flame  
The sword

Stars  
In your multitudes  
Scarce to be counted  
Filling the darkness  
With order and light  
You are the sentinels  
Silent and sure  
Keeping watch in the night  
Keeping watch in the night

You know your place in the sky  
You hold your course and your aim  
And each in your season  
Returns and returns  
And is always the same  
And if you fall as Lucifer fell  
You fall in flame

And so it has been and so it is written  
On the doorway to paradise  
That those who falter and those who fall  
Must pay the price

Lord let me find him  
That I may see him  
Safe behind bars  
I will never rest  
Till then  
This I swear  
This I swear by the stars

Stoph closed his notebook with a thud and stood up slowly. He raised his head and stared up at the sky, lit up in starlight. His eyes closed and he simply stood there, in all his glory.

* * *

**Sorry for the obvious lack of creativity in this one. I all but copied and pasted the lyrics for MotH into this one... But I was tired and in a rush when I did it. If you would like, I can edit it at a later time but not now! review? **


End file.
